Alright, just to keep this thing going while I am a little extra busy...
Here's a little something created 43 or so years ago - but first, think of a song in which the singer does nothing but complain about his/her problem(s). Got one? (You should - there are many).
Now describe it using some terms like "beautiful", "humble", "wistful", "brilliant", "classic", "emotionally resonant", etc.
That doesn't work very well, does it? It doesn't for me, at least. Usually such songs can more aptly be described as "whiney", "annoying", "self-centered", "angsty", maybe even "turn that $%*& off!"
But then there's this gorgeous little piece of forgotten art:
How is it so good? I don't know. But it really is.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Friday, February 20, 2009
Movie Review - Grand Torino
I did a few movie reviews last year for the local paper, and you know what? I'm glad this wasn't one of them.
On the surface, Gran Torino is very entertaining. But on other levels, such as the technical and artistic, it's...well, I don't want to say BAD - but is it?
Here's what I really liked:
1. Clint Eastwood's character Walt. He's a scathingly acidic, salty, puckered Korean war vet that almost immediately gets you firmly on his side. You want to see how he handles every new situation. You can't wait for the next bit of nonsense to pop out of his mouth. You silently cheer as he utterly outclasses the neighborhood gangs at their own strong-arm game. It's fun.
2. The pacing and humor. This thing never drags. Especially for a film with seemingly serious things to say, it's surprising that the entertainment factor is so high. A lot of stuff to laugh at. Quite a bit of simmering suspense. A not-TOO predictable finish (or maybe I was just slow on this one - it's really kind of an either-or...)
3. The language. Often in R-rated movies, the f-bombs are way over-represented in board meetings and underrepresented out on the street. Here, it feels very natural. When the gang cars pull up next to each other it's f-everything, while Walt has his own brand of grizzled veteran speak. And we don't get that stupid cheap laugh where the old Korean lady spits out something shockingly unsavory.
And what I didn't like...ok, that's not going to work because I really "liked" the whole thing. That's the problem this movie presents - there was no point during viewing where I could say "alright, this is a problem."
Oh, I guess there was one thing: When particularly agitated, Walt sort of growls. Yes. Like a dog. That's a little too much, and actually cheapens what ought to be a fantastically menacing (and silent) sneer.
Anyway, minor quibbles. The main thing is this: I can't really praise the themes. There's nothing eye-opening, nothing that really makes you examine things. I came out of the movie feeling that I had been uniquely entertained, but not that I had to do any serious pondering. The old-man-finding-personal-redemption theme, the race theme - there was nothing new in them, nothing shocking or even unnerving. No tough compromises. No tragic flaws.
There was nothing to hook the characters and plot to the themes in some non-trivial way and thus create a work greater than just the sum of its parts.
So how about a rating? In theory, I'm rather against distilling things down into simple number grades, but in practice...it's the best part! Gran Torino: a strange mix. A story that in itself delivers a pretty visceral blow, coupled with intended themes that make hardly any impact at all.
*** (out of 4). Because I really did enjoy watching it.
On the surface, Gran Torino is very entertaining. But on other levels, such as the technical and artistic, it's...well, I don't want to say BAD - but is it?
Here's what I really liked:
1. Clint Eastwood's character Walt. He's a scathingly acidic, salty, puckered Korean war vet that almost immediately gets you firmly on his side. You want to see how he handles every new situation. You can't wait for the next bit of nonsense to pop out of his mouth. You silently cheer as he utterly outclasses the neighborhood gangs at their own strong-arm game. It's fun.
2. The pacing and humor. This thing never drags. Especially for a film with seemingly serious things to say, it's surprising that the entertainment factor is so high. A lot of stuff to laugh at. Quite a bit of simmering suspense. A not-TOO predictable finish (or maybe I was just slow on this one - it's really kind of an either-or...)
3. The language. Often in R-rated movies, the f-bombs are way over-represented in board meetings and underrepresented out on the street. Here, it feels very natural. When the gang cars pull up next to each other it's f-everything, while Walt has his own brand of grizzled veteran speak. And we don't get that stupid cheap laugh where the old Korean lady spits out something shockingly unsavory.
And what I didn't like...ok, that's not going to work because I really "liked" the whole thing. That's the problem this movie presents - there was no point during viewing where I could say "alright, this is a problem."
Oh, I guess there was one thing: When particularly agitated, Walt sort of growls. Yes. Like a dog. That's a little too much, and actually cheapens what ought to be a fantastically menacing (and silent) sneer.
Anyway, minor quibbles. The main thing is this: I can't really praise the themes. There's nothing eye-opening, nothing that really makes you examine things. I came out of the movie feeling that I had been uniquely entertained, but not that I had to do any serious pondering. The old-man-finding-personal-redemption theme, the race theme - there was nothing new in them, nothing shocking or even unnerving. No tough compromises. No tragic flaws.
There was nothing to hook the characters and plot to the themes in some non-trivial way and thus create a work greater than just the sum of its parts.
So how about a rating? In theory, I'm rather against distilling things down into simple number grades, but in practice...it's the best part! Gran Torino: a strange mix. A story that in itself delivers a pretty visceral blow, coupled with intended themes that make hardly any impact at all.
*** (out of 4). Because I really did enjoy watching it.
Monday, February 16, 2009
What is real and what is not #1 - Living w/ Machigenga
Can you turn on your television and see a video of an ACTUAL LSD trip? I would think not.
But on the Travel Channel we get this new show, Living with the Machigenga, where two guys named Mark and Olly apparently show up with a camera crew and try to assimilate in with an indigenous Amazonian tribe. And on this episode (first or second - I'm not sure) they hop right in to the traditional culture by seeing a shaman and taking the drug "black ayahuasca"
Here's a little online extra where Mark demonstrates that yes, the drug is quite inspiring. And that's before (presumably) all the real crazy stuff happens - vomiting, running through the woods, crouching down and picking at the ground, talking gibberish (all of which can be viewed on the actual show).
Wild stuff to be on a TV show - especially one rated TV-PG! I suppose it speaks to the power of the notion of "traditional culture" on how we interpret the things we see.
But the whole thing demands a certain consideration. The camera crew! These two guys are supposed to be endearing themselves to a uniquely traditional tribe, partaking in rituals, avoiding reliance on any modern technology - and with a camera crew?
The show takes on an entirely different attitude when we remember this fact. To us, the cameras are supposed to be invisible, the crew is supposed to be distinctly separate from the human experience that we are viewing (indeed, during the episode I watched we only see briefly see a single crew member when Mark has to be restrained during the ayahuasca incident). But to the actual Machigenga tribesmen?
How far must the reality of the experiences undergone by Mark, Olly, and the rest of the crew diverge from the edited product we see on television! At the end of the episode, they go rafting down rapids. We see a lot of camera shots, a lot of angles that must have been staged or at least discussed. But the story we get is "Olly and I were left behind by the rest of the tribe because we were holding them back" (they are not naturals at Machigenga-style rafting).
The reality, the "story" that must have existed during those moments had to have been quite different. What about the camera crew? How did they get down the river? Did everyone have to learn the traditional rafting style? What did the Machigenga have to say about all this? Surely there must have been a serious discussion of the logistics of the whole project, right? Wouldn't that be interesting for us to know?
Questions like these can be asked at every turn. Ultimately, it leaves me very unsatisfied.
It's like this: you went into the jungle, and you say you're going to show me what it was like. But you don't - you show me something, maybe you even show me a part of everything. But you don't show me all of anything. Instead you pretend as if an important component of your experience didn't exist at all!
And it is frustrating, trying to decide what is real and what is not.
But on the Travel Channel we get this new show, Living with the Machigenga, where two guys named Mark and Olly apparently show up with a camera crew and try to assimilate in with an indigenous Amazonian tribe. And on this episode (first or second - I'm not sure) they hop right in to the traditional culture by seeing a shaman and taking the drug "black ayahuasca"
Here's a little online extra where Mark demonstrates that yes, the drug is quite inspiring. And that's before (presumably) all the real crazy stuff happens - vomiting, running through the woods, crouching down and picking at the ground, talking gibberish (all of which can be viewed on the actual show).
Wild stuff to be on a TV show - especially one rated TV-PG! I suppose it speaks to the power of the notion of "traditional culture" on how we interpret the things we see.
But the whole thing demands a certain consideration. The camera crew! These two guys are supposed to be endearing themselves to a uniquely traditional tribe, partaking in rituals, avoiding reliance on any modern technology - and with a camera crew?
The show takes on an entirely different attitude when we remember this fact. To us, the cameras are supposed to be invisible, the crew is supposed to be distinctly separate from the human experience that we are viewing (indeed, during the episode I watched we only see briefly see a single crew member when Mark has to be restrained during the ayahuasca incident). But to the actual Machigenga tribesmen?
How far must the reality of the experiences undergone by Mark, Olly, and the rest of the crew diverge from the edited product we see on television! At the end of the episode, they go rafting down rapids. We see a lot of camera shots, a lot of angles that must have been staged or at least discussed. But the story we get is "Olly and I were left behind by the rest of the tribe because we were holding them back" (they are not naturals at Machigenga-style rafting).
The reality, the "story" that must have existed during those moments had to have been quite different. What about the camera crew? How did they get down the river? Did everyone have to learn the traditional rafting style? What did the Machigenga have to say about all this? Surely there must have been a serious discussion of the logistics of the whole project, right? Wouldn't that be interesting for us to know?
Questions like these can be asked at every turn. Ultimately, it leaves me very unsatisfied.
It's like this: you went into the jungle, and you say you're going to show me what it was like. But you don't - you show me something, maybe you even show me a part of everything. But you don't show me all of anything. Instead you pretend as if an important component of your experience didn't exist at all!
And it is frustrating, trying to decide what is real and what is not.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Music, Rock
There's so much to say on the subject, but recently I've been watching some 1960s rock videos on youtube, including a couple of incredible live performances by The Who.
I believe no other rock band has ever consistently infused such an immense amount of authentic energy into its performances. It's hard to look at the Who playing and say of any one thing "oh, now that's a put-on." One can certainly here Pete Townshend's body movements translating directly into the sound that comes out of his instrument.
Oh, and dig that spontaneous little harmony they hit right at the end!
But I digress. The Who were something else; I'll probably find some more time to ramble on about their contributions to the thing we call "rock".
What I am discovering is that there was a big "X factor" in the rock music of the 1960s that does not - and I argue , cannot, exist today.
It was the original energy - the sense of discovery and true rule-breaking, of being able to create sounds that had never before been heard; the idea that perhaps what was being played and what was being sung really could change the world, and at the very least was powerful in and of itself. The musical artists were aided, of course, by the fact that they were working with a very short and undeveloped history of electric amplification - electric guitar in particular. They were also working with a very short history of global "popular music" (and in this aspect the Beatles, as far as I know, really were the first).
And so there was so much that could be imagined, so much empty space to fill, and the original energy manifested itself as the rapid and exciting filling of all that artistic space.
Now, you could argue with the fact that I'm making a lot of statements of fact and conjecture without backing any of it up. And in a way, this is true (and one of the most irritating "bad-think" phenomena I encounter on the internet).
But this I contend is a special case, because the artistic explosion is quite vividly and adequately documented by the music recordings themselves.
For example, between 1948 and 1958 we go from this to this.
Between 1958 and 1968 we make it all the way to this.
And now, we're somewhere around here.
Tell me that the growth between 1968 and 2008 can somehow favorably compare to the growth between 1948 and 1958 or 1958 and 1968! (or 1965 and 1967, for that matter - but another day!)
The point of all this? "Rock is dead. Long live rock!"
It is going the way of jazz and symphonic/orchestral music. No new standards being set.
My expectation: for true revolution and growth in music, something ENTIRELY new must be discovered - and that something cannot have the guitar as its central instrument.
This is where, if there were readers, I would ask "does anyone have any thoughts on the future of music?" Prize to the first commenter: I will make a full blog post dedicated to the comment! (that oughta bring 'em in)
I believe no other rock band has ever consistently infused such an immense amount of authentic energy into its performances. It's hard to look at the Who playing and say of any one thing "oh, now that's a put-on." One can certainly here Pete Townshend's body movements translating directly into the sound that comes out of his instrument.
Oh, and dig that spontaneous little harmony they hit right at the end!
But I digress. The Who were something else; I'll probably find some more time to ramble on about their contributions to the thing we call "rock".
What I am discovering is that there was a big "X factor" in the rock music of the 1960s that does not - and I argue , cannot, exist today.
It was the original energy - the sense of discovery and true rule-breaking, of being able to create sounds that had never before been heard; the idea that perhaps what was being played and what was being sung really could change the world, and at the very least was powerful in and of itself. The musical artists were aided, of course, by the fact that they were working with a very short and undeveloped history of electric amplification - electric guitar in particular. They were also working with a very short history of global "popular music" (and in this aspect the Beatles, as far as I know, really were the first).
And so there was so much that could be imagined, so much empty space to fill, and the original energy manifested itself as the rapid and exciting filling of all that artistic space.
Now, you could argue with the fact that I'm making a lot of statements of fact and conjecture without backing any of it up. And in a way, this is true (and one of the most irritating "bad-think" phenomena I encounter on the internet).
But this I contend is a special case, because the artistic explosion is quite vividly and adequately documented by the music recordings themselves.
For example, between 1948 and 1958 we go from this to this.
Between 1958 and 1968 we make it all the way to this.
And now, we're somewhere around here.
Tell me that the growth between 1968 and 2008 can somehow favorably compare to the growth between 1948 and 1958 or 1958 and 1968! (or 1965 and 1967, for that matter - but another day!)
The point of all this? "Rock is dead. Long live rock!"
It is going the way of jazz and symphonic/orchestral music. No new standards being set.
My expectation: for true revolution and growth in music, something ENTIRELY new must be discovered - and that something cannot have the guitar as its central instrument.
This is where, if there were readers, I would ask "does anyone have any thoughts on the future of music?" Prize to the first commenter: I will make a full blog post dedicated to the comment! (that oughta bring 'em in)
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
The Most Important Thing
Ok, I guess I'm stuck with this title, even though there are some interesting current events that I think I would rather comment on.
So, I keep it short. The most important thing is: is there a metaphysical reality? That is, does something eternal exist that extends outside of our physical existence - a nonphysical "spiritual" realm?
And if so, have there been claims to knowledge of the truth of this spiritual reality?
And if so, can one or some of these claims actually be believed?
This is where many tend to drop out intellectually - "There's so much religion/spirituality/junk out there, so how could any of it be true?"
Well, something is true. Can it really be found out? Well, I suppose "certainty", in the scientific sense, will never apply to any spiritual matter, or even any historical claims. But there is to some extent evidence to be weighed. There are different degrees of uncertainty.
I have considered claims to spiritual knowledge/reality and I have come to a conclusion. Perhaps later this conclusion will be discussed. From my own experiences and conversations, there are many who live under assumption and belief without ever drawing conclusions or even making examinations. Because of this, their thinking is not anchored and they drift and lose themselves intellectually, unable to weigh and measure ideas according to a consistent personal position.
Besides, if there is a spiritual reality, and if it is possible to know something about it, is that not the most important thing?
(No? Then what is?)
So, I keep it short. The most important thing is: is there a metaphysical reality? That is, does something eternal exist that extends outside of our physical existence - a nonphysical "spiritual" realm?
And if so, have there been claims to knowledge of the truth of this spiritual reality?
And if so, can one or some of these claims actually be believed?
This is where many tend to drop out intellectually - "There's so much religion/spirituality/junk out there, so how could any of it be true?"
Well, something is true. Can it really be found out? Well, I suppose "certainty", in the scientific sense, will never apply to any spiritual matter, or even any historical claims. But there is to some extent evidence to be weighed. There are different degrees of uncertainty.
I have considered claims to spiritual knowledge/reality and I have come to a conclusion. Perhaps later this conclusion will be discussed. From my own experiences and conversations, there are many who live under assumption and belief without ever drawing conclusions or even making examinations. Because of this, their thinking is not anchored and they drift and lose themselves intellectually, unable to weigh and measure ideas according to a consistent personal position.
Besides, if there is a spiritual reality, and if it is possible to know something about it, is that not the most important thing?
(No? Then what is?)
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Three topics for thought
So what will I write about?
I think for the moment I am going to use this blog as a personal notepad to explore those things which provoke my own thoughts. In the future, perhaps there will be comments, readership direction, arguments, and discussion - all the fun stuff - to help guide things.
But how about three categories to start with:
1. Response to news/controversies/compelling situations. The internet hosts intense discussion (of greatly varying quality) like no other forum. Often the very nature of the arguments, the way people on both sides attack an issue, is more compelling than the issue itself. This is the kind of stuff I like to dig into.
2. Reviews of/musings on culture - music, movies, food, drink. The nature of art in words and images (making an attempt at artistic creation, such as writing a book - try it! - can give one pretensions of understanding). Connoisseurship - why explore other things when what sits on your plate or wafts into your ears is perfectly satisfying? (Yes, there's an answer! Stay tuned; I'm coming up with it right now...)
3. Happenings in my own life/personal philosophy/discoveries. When something significant happens, something that affects my thinking. None of that "I went to a party last night and I saw this friend but I didn't say hi 'cause she was with some other people I don't really like...etc. etc."
But you know, something like "It seems to me that passing an acquaintance without exchanging a greeting adds more distance to the relationship than simply having no contact for a period of time" could be a legitimate starting point for some rumination.
Anyway, that's three categories.
Now one statement:
If you read this blog, your thinking should be provoked. This is my call to every reader who happens along. If I tackle issues that challenge me, I should hope that they also challenge others. If not, a) I'm not doing a good job and b) my thinking must be sub-par - and really, I should probably give this nonsense up.
But I don't think that will be the case (again, assuming I carry on as planned). In everything I aspire to make my thought liquid, to let it cover all the contours of a problem and seek out the cracks. I aspire to think deeply and truly, to remove myself as fully as I can and in this way develop an understanding apart from the fleeting things that are sensation and emotion.
Yeah. Now watch me go the way of most startup bloggers and disappear entirely.
Actually, let's try this. Let's kick off some actual content with the next post, which I will call "The Most Important Thing." Yep, going for broke.
I think for the moment I am going to use this blog as a personal notepad to explore those things which provoke my own thoughts. In the future, perhaps there will be comments, readership direction, arguments, and discussion - all the fun stuff - to help guide things.
But how about three categories to start with:
1. Response to news/controversies/compelling situations. The internet hosts intense discussion (of greatly varying quality) like no other forum. Often the very nature of the arguments, the way people on both sides attack an issue, is more compelling than the issue itself. This is the kind of stuff I like to dig into.
2. Reviews of/musings on culture - music, movies, food, drink. The nature of art in words and images (making an attempt at artistic creation, such as writing a book - try it! - can give one pretensions of understanding). Connoisseurship - why explore other things when what sits on your plate or wafts into your ears is perfectly satisfying? (Yes, there's an answer! Stay tuned; I'm coming up with it right now...)
3. Happenings in my own life/personal philosophy/discoveries. When something significant happens, something that affects my thinking. None of that "I went to a party last night and I saw this friend but I didn't say hi 'cause she was with some other people I don't really like...etc. etc."
But you know, something like "It seems to me that passing an acquaintance without exchanging a greeting adds more distance to the relationship than simply having no contact for a period of time" could be a legitimate starting point for some rumination.
Anyway, that's three categories.
Now one statement:
If you read this blog, your thinking should be provoked. This is my call to every reader who happens along. If I tackle issues that challenge me, I should hope that they also challenge others. If not, a) I'm not doing a good job and b) my thinking must be sub-par - and really, I should probably give this nonsense up.
But I don't think that will be the case (again, assuming I carry on as planned). In everything I aspire to make my thought liquid, to let it cover all the contours of a problem and seek out the cracks. I aspire to think deeply and truly, to remove myself as fully as I can and in this way develop an understanding apart from the fleeting things that are sensation and emotion.
Yeah. Now watch me go the way of most startup bloggers and disappear entirely.
Actually, let's try this. Let's kick off some actual content with the next post, which I will call "The Most Important Thing." Yep, going for broke.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Post 1
Alrighty, time to blog. This black background is nice...
I've noticed that pages with dark colors tend to be more visually arresting, and to perhaps give off a greater sense of urgency, of "hey, read this!" White backgrounds have a lighter mood, and I at least find them easier to click away from...
Ok, anyway, here's the deal: I just wrote a novella. It's supposed to be serious. It's supposed to be a bit of an artistic statement. It's supposed to get published at some point. It's supposed to be read, and to make people Think!
This may not happen for a while (or it may!). But there should be other projects down the line, too. I believe I have things to say. And even if none of my artistic attempts break through and cannot not cause others to think, the fact remains that I do think.
And so...I start this blog. Let's see what happens.
I've noticed that pages with dark colors tend to be more visually arresting, and to perhaps give off a greater sense of urgency, of "hey, read this!" White backgrounds have a lighter mood, and I at least find them easier to click away from...
Ok, anyway, here's the deal: I just wrote a novella. It's supposed to be serious. It's supposed to be a bit of an artistic statement. It's supposed to get published at some point. It's supposed to be read, and to make people Think!
This may not happen for a while (or it may!). But there should be other projects down the line, too. I believe I have things to say. And even if none of my artistic attempts break through and cannot not cause others to think, the fact remains that I do think.
And so...I start this blog. Let's see what happens.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)