Sing, Sing A Song

This year's Oscar telecast will not feature the nominees for Best Song.  Normally, I'd say huzzah--not only are all those songs the most boring part of the show, but just knowing you'll have to sit through them drags down the rest of the evening.

But this year it's a mistake.  First, for some reason, only two songs are nominated, so it's not that daunting.  Second, the two songs might even be fun this year.

One of them, from Rio, is by Sergio Mendes, and would allow for an exotic, colorful number.  The other is from The Muppets--"Man Or Muppet"--which, pretty obviously, would allow a performance from the Muppets. Why turn down a chance to feature the Muppets?  Afraid they'll outclass Billy Crystal?

Pauline's Greatest Hits

I just read Brian Kellow's Pauline Kael: A Life In The Dark.  You wouldn't think too many film critics deserve a full-length biography, but Kael was the preeminent voice of the past fifty years.  She was widely read, highly influential and almost as big as the movies she reviewed.

Still, such a biography raises certain problems. As the title notes, much of her life was spent in the dark, watching movies, and even more spent in a room writing down her thoughts on these movies. Kellow deals with this problem by concentrating on her reviews, not on what she did otherwise.  So the first 100 pages has conventional biographical material--raised in the West, failed in New York, had a baby out of wedlock, ran a successful revival house in Berkeley, started publishing articles on movies--but once she gets her roost at The New Yorker, the rest is mostly a recital of her views on various films.

Some would see this as a failing, but really it's as it should be.  Her life became about her reviews.  And anyone who's read her will recall the many famous raves and pans that had everybody talking.  Films like Hud, The Group, Bonnie And Clyde, Last Tango In Paris, Nashville, Invasion Of The Body Snatchers, The Warriors, Rich And Famous, Shoah, Casualties Of War and so many others will bring back memories not only of what she wrote about, but how others reacted.

Not that she didn't have a life, but it revolved around seeing movies. She lived with her daughter Gina and didn't seem to have romantic relationships with men once she was a full-time critic (which was late in life--she didn't make a living at it until she was hired at The New Yorker when she was almost 50). She got to know many filmmakers--some would say too well, often dining and drinking with them.  And many others in the industry would write her, sometimes congratulating her on her perception, but just as often condemn her for her nastiness or misinterpretation.  And almost from the start she was involved in feuds, for want of a better word.  In the early 60s she published a well-considered attack on auteurists, "Circles And Squares," and became the nemesis of Village Voice critic Andrew Sarris.  They were the two poles of American film criticism for the next generation.  She also published a book in the early 70s questioning Orson Welles' contribution to Citizen Kane which created a lot of anger, especially from Peter Bogdanovich, who published a point-by-point refutation.  Then there was Renata Adler's lengthy piece in The New York Review Of Books in 1980 where she called Kael's latest collection of reviews worthless, and took Kael to task for both her taste and writing style.

Adler made some good points.  Kael was a smart, lively writer but she had serious flaws, some of which only worsened through time. She was vulgar, regularly included audience reaction in her reviews (or actually, what Kael claimed the audience was feeling) and was hyperbolic, looking to puff up what she liked into the "best" this or that.  She also seemed to play favorites, picking certain actors or directors--say, Altman, De Palma, Streisand, Travolta--and praising them to the skies, while others were on her hit list. (Not that she couldn't change her mind--many of her favorites would eventually let her down, and occasionally she'd say something nice about old enemies.)

In the late 70s, Warren Beatty offered her a job in Hollywood as a producer.  She took it, though many warned Kael he was playing her.  She was 60 and maybe figured it'd be nice to make really big money, and also to try something different. But after half a year in Los Angeles, beating her head against the wall (and often against executive Don Simpson, who saw to it nothing she recommended got produced), she beat a hasty retreat to The New Yorker (though it took some convincing to get editor William Shawn to take her back).

Though she was back, things were never the same, even as she took sole proprietorship of "The Current Cinema" for the magazine (she'd previously split the year with Shawn favorite Penelope Gilliatt).  Her later reviews sometimes seem more tired, and her position less influential.  Some of this may have to do with the times--when she started, it was a period where American filmmaking was going into all sorts of new and different areas, and these films inspired her best work.  By the 1980s, Hollywood was firmly in the grip of blockbuster mania (partly thanks to executives like Simpson) and not only were quirky, exciting films rarer, they were also less likely to hit it big.

She was getting tired of the job (and also was diagnosed with Parkinson's) and eventually quit in 1991, but not before remaking film criticism.  And not just through her writing.  She gathered many acolytes--known as the Paulettes--whom she'd encourage in their careers, often into criticism.  To this day, many top essayists at major magazines started as Paulettes.  She also dropped many along the way.  You didn't always have to agree with her, but you generally had to defer to her.

I liked how Kellow generally avoided putting in his own opinions of the films in question--there are already enough opinions floating around.  He does a good job placing Kael in her time, and showing some of the behind-the-scenes stories of her most celebrated work.  I don't know if Kael will be remembered as well as the films she wrote about, but at the very least those who follow cinema will remember her for being at the center of a time when films seemed to be at the center of the world.

PS  One mysterious flaw in the book.  Pauline Kael is famous for claiming she was surprised Nixon won the election in 1972 since everbody she knew didn't vote for them.  This is supposed to show the insularity and cluelessness of  the eastest intellectual elite (which is funny in itself since Pauline saw herself as a regular girl from the West who, if anything, resented the Eastern intellectual world).  But another version of the story has a fuller quote where Kael is laughing at herself and her insularity, saying she recognizes how small her world is in some ways in that she only knew people who didn't vote for Nixon.

I figured if Kellow did one thing, he'd clear up which version is true.  But he actually tells both versions, and at different points in the book.  I suppose they could both have happened, but I'd wish he'd been more clear about that.

Composure

I almost forgot. Happy 80th, John Williams.  So much to choose from I hardly know where to begin.

By Any Other Name Would Be Just As Old

What the heck.  Guess we might as well note that Axl Rose turned 50 this week.

House Foundation

This season of House has been a bit better than the last two.  It shouldn't be. Not only is the series old and tired, but the new cast--with Odette Annable and Charlene Yi--don't compare to previous diagnosticians played by Jennifer Morrison, Olivia Wilde, Anne Dudek or Amber Tamblyn.  For that matter, Foreman as the hospital administrator and House's nemesis just doesn't work as well as Cuddy.

But the last few years they took the whole House/Cuddy thing in the wrong direction and dragged down the show.  Now they can concentrate better on the patients, and are freer to deal with other issues as well, without House worrying about or mooning over his girlfriend.

This week had an off-series episode, "Nobody's Fault," where they brought in a big name (Jeffrey Wright) to investigate a case that went awry.  So the story was told in flashback. The stakes were high--will Foreman lose his job, will Chase die or become paralyzed, will House go back to jail--but all that couldn't disguise the plot's basic mistake.

Wright looked into how House runs his team, and wondered how he could get away with all those insults, pranks and other outrages.  At this late date, we're still dealing with his technique?  You have to go with it or there's no show.  In real life, a House, no matter how brilliant, could not get away with what he does.  He'd be fired almost immediately for his abusive, not too mention sexist and racist, manner.  He's also be sued on a regular basis, and brought up on ethics charges about as often.  We allow this exaggeration to make for greater drama, so when some character comes in and tries to point this out, he's breaking the compact we've made with the series.

It reminds me of the Seinfeld finale (which was a bigger mistake). The characters got nastier, coarser and more outrageous through the years, but the audience went along with it.  The point was they were reflections on how we deal with the little things in life, but overdone for comic effect.  To have Jerry, George, Elaine and Kramer taken to task--in a court, no less--for their lifestyles broke the deal we'd all made with the series.

Perhaps the producers are having trouble coming up with new ideas on House.  But they shouldn't be questioning the very premise of the show.

PS  House won't be around next season.  Not a complete surprise.  Perhaps Hugh Laurie will finally get the Emmy he's deserved all these years.

Prior To Pryor

An interesting discussion at the A.V. Club about the profoundest piece of comedy. Various writers give their opinions. This is from Phil Nugent:

I don’t know where most people nowadays pick up their first bits of precious information about the birds and the bees, whether it’s from their parents or on the streets or the Internet, but when I was growing up in Mississippi, we didn’t have cable or the Internet or even any streets, and my parents were more clueless than I was. Galloping to the rescue came Richard Pryor, an infinite source of clear-eyed wisdom and sound counsel about the sex wars, for all the meager good it did him in his own life. Everything he said on this subject, whether he was demonstrating a man’s absolute inability to hang onto his dignity when his lover is calmly preparing to leave him, or offering a blow-by-blow illustrative lesson on ministering to an unresponsive clitoris (or in Pryor-speak, a “dead pussy”), will at some point be of use to the eager young pupil. But none of it has broader wide-world implications than his suggestion for what to say when caught in flagrante delicto: “Who are you gonna believe, me or your lyin’ eyes?” The underlying idea, that if you just stick to your guns and are consistent in denying all the available scientific evidence, you might be able to brazen through anything, is the same as Hitler’s theory of the big lie, but it has the advantage of being funny, which makes it less depressing whenever I see it playing out, which happens a lot. The next time you see someone on a TV movie-review show playing a clip from Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close and talking about its sublime artistry, or a commercial for a new comedy showing Rob Schneider making worn-to-the-stump racial slurs to the accompaniment of a screaming laugh track, or Newt Gingrich on a debate stage talking about his record as a Washington outsider occupying the moral high ground—to raucous applause—don’t hang yourself; just shrug and say, “Hey, who are they supposed to believe, him or their lying eyes?” And then guffaw.

This is actually a pretty old line used by a lot of people.  The most famous version, and the first I'm aware of, comes from a scene in Duck Soup (1933) where Harpo, dressed as Groucho, has just left Margaret Dumont's room, while Chico, dressed as Groucho, is still there:

Mrs. Teasdale: Your Excellency, I thought you'd left!
Chicolini: Oh no, I no leave.
Mrs. Teasdale: But I saw you with my own eyes!
Chicolini: Well, who you gonna believe, me or your own eyes?

Apparently growing up in Mississippi makes you miss an awful lot.

Violent Encounter

I just finished Steven Pinker's lengthy and erudite The Better Angels Of Our Nature.  It's about why we're much less violent than we used to be.

First, of course, he has to convince readers of the counterintuitive fact that we're a lot less violent than we once were--a tricky task considering the two world wars in the 20th century, not to mention massive purges and forced starvations.  His response:  1) most of that was a statistical anomaly in the first half of the century, and 2) when you look at the overall scheme of things and adjust for population, these were hardly the worst atrocities in human history.

In general, Pinker agrees with Hobbes.  In a state of nature, we're pretty violent, and the evidence, anthopological and historical, backs this up.  Even with primitive weapons, people were far more likely to die of violence at just about any time in our past than the present.  But as we've gone from living in small groups to a more organized society, we can solve our problems through a rule of law we all agree upon.  You may give up a little to live under such a social contract, but allowing the state (especially a free state) to have a monopoly on legal violence ends up giving you a lot more freedom--or at least, a lot less fear, when you don't have to worry about meting out justice yourself, or others meting it out on you if you're not quick enough.

Pinker has done a lot of research, and his conclusions will probably please neither conservatives or liberals.  For instance, while he doesn't think we should toss aside everything, he thinks a lot of beliefs from the past--even the fairly recent past--have been or should be superseded.  But he certainly doesn't have any patience for a concept like the noble savage (just remove cops from the streets for a few days to find out how noble we can be) and believes all the attacks on Western culture in the 60s went too far and led to a temporary but significant rise in crime.

A lot of the best stuff in the book is a long look at the past--how it's a different country.  People simply had different assumptions about how life should be lived.  And not just in pre-history, or ancient Rome.  Just a hundred years ago, war had a good name--it enlivened society, allowed for glory and offered something greater than the cheap, stagnant, materialistic society we'd have otherwise.  Just fifty years ago, it was still considered pretty normal for men to solve their problems with their fists--not something the law should be concerned with.  This attitude is far from gone, but the less "honor-based" a society is, the more we understand that punching someone, as much fun as it may look like in the movies, is not a proper response to mere provocations.

Pinker believes the trend will continue, but he understands there's no guarantees.  I'd like to think he's right.  The question becomes is there anything we can do to encourage the trend, or will history move the way it does regardless?

Leftover Vanity Plates

As usual, on a Lexus. I GGK.  So it's not enough he announces he's GGK, he wants everyone to know it's him.

On another Lexus:  ABC   1.  Okay, pretty basic.

KMBA.  Really?  You've got plenty of space for that I.

ACURA 1.  I never get the plates announcing the car type. It's already written on the car, why pay for an extra reminder?

ARRRMTY.  Clearly a pirate.

FIRBOLT.  I assume it's firebolt, or maybe the guy just likes trees.

SUNPAC.  Could mean a lot of things.  Likes the sunny Pacific?

Abbey Road

In the middle of the terrible Saturday Night Live this week there was one terrific bit--a Spike TV promo for Downton Abbey:



What makes this work extra well is they didn't take the easy way out.  Normally, all the jokes would be about Spike TV's incomprehension or incompatability with a British import like Downton Abbey--the channel trying to make the series seem sleazier or sexier or more violent than it is, and not understanding its style or plot.  And the promo has that, but they went the extra step and also mocked Downton Abbey, and in ways that required some knowledge of the show. A concept that goes where it's expected to can work well with proper execution, but when they go that extra mile it's something special.

The Truth is Up Here

By now, I'm sure most of you have heard about how the image of a pig ended up on the side of a number of Vermont State Police cruisers.

What's surprised me most about it is how many people I've spoken with who can't understand why the whole thing would be upsetting to the law enforcement community. Granted, people don't seem to use the term to describe Police anymore - at least not in Vermont.

Maybe the whole thing is just a ruse to pull attention away from the other image on the cow - the one that looks like E.T.

Because Vermont being the hub of alien activity in the U.S. kinda makes sense, actually.

By My Guest

Happy birthday, Christopher Guest.  He first came to notice in the world of comedy working on The National Lampoon Radio Hour and in their stage show National Lampoon's Lemmings.  He was not only a fine musician, but a master musical impressionist. (He did a Neil Young that's never been topped, though I can't seem to find an example.)

Here he is in Lemmings doing Dylan (both voices), introduced by a pre-fame John Belushi and Chevy Chase.



He's now most famous for the improvisational films he made, started with Rob Reiner's This Is Spinal Tap in 1984.



He later took over the reins and made such great stuff as Waiting For Guffman and A Mighty Wind, both of which took advantage of his musical talents.

Taking Us For A Ride

Dahlia Lithwick's cheerleading for Stephen Colbert's crusade against the Citizens United comes as no surprise.  Both Colbert and Lithwick have a prominent perch from which to speak their minds, and they're incensed that others who have something to say are allowed a sliver of the same attention.

So to mock the system, Colbert formed a Super PAC and raised hundreds of thousands of dollars.  Of course, it's not very effective satire when most of his money comes from non-corporate sources, and thus, as has been noted, almost everything he's doing was legal before Citizens United.

But the ultimate joke is after all Colbert's done, at best his PAC could produce and air a few minutes of commercials, when he already enjoys 30 minutes of TV time five days a week all year around.

Many of the comments to Lithwick's piece keep asking how can a corporation have free speech?  Well, it's just a group of people, and people regularly pool their money to get out their message--why should those who organize as corporations be the one group that loses this basic right?

One commenter asked if a car could also have freedom of speech?  It's supposed to be a rhetorical question showing the absurdity of corporate free speech, but let's look into this.  Imagine if Congress passed a law saying "you as an individual are perfectly free to make political speeches at any organization you like, but it's unfair that those with more money can travel more easily to do this, so from now on, you can drive to the speech, but you can't spend more than $5 on gas to get there." Even though legislators could defend this on the grounds that they're not regulating speech, they're only regulating money, I believe the Supreme Court would overturn it as an impediment on speech.  And then Dahlia Lithwick and her fans could be outraged yet again: "This is ridiculous--now a car has freedom of speech?!"

That's Rich

John Rich, one of the top TV directors ever, died earlier this week. But until I saw the following video, I had no idea he made this particular contribution to television comedy:

The Price Of Tea In China

Some people have been passing around this piece from Conn Carroll (lot of double letters there) that says "Gallup state numbers predict huge Obama loss." I don't know if Carroll wrote his own headline, but there's a disconnect between it and the body of his piece.

First, of course, these numbers predict nothing.  They're just aggregated data from 2011, and things can easily change by election day.  In fact, they already have.  Last year, Obama averaged 44% approval.  His approval rating is higher at present, so he's already moving back up.

Second, these numbers only show his relative popularity in the 50 states.  What matters is his relative popularity against his opponent.  Even if Obama averaged 30% popularity, if the Republican averaged 20% popularity, Obama would probably beat him.

Even in the weak approval year of 2011, Obama was positioned to do well in states with 159 electoral votes, and to do poorly in states with 153 electoral votes.  The election will probably be determined by 12 swing states, especially highly populated ones such as Ohio, Florida and Pennsylvania.  Yes, it's true, if he's still stuck around 45% approval in such states, he could be in trouble (assuming the Republican candidate doesn't turn people off even more), but he doesn't even need to get above 50% to win.  Bush was reelected in 2004 with only 48% approval.

Shuffle Off

Mary Tyler Moore just received a lifetime achievement award from the Screen Actors Guild. The LA Times celebrates her career in a series of photos.  One of the captions (bold added) reads:

Moore got her second sitcom, "The Mary Tyler Moore Show," in 1970. Moore played Mary Richards, a single TV news producer in Minneapolis, in this popular and critically acclaimed sitcom that ran for seven seasons. It won the Emmy Award for best comedy series three years in a row and earned Moore three more Emmys for actress in a comedy series. The series made stars of many people in its supporting cast, including Betty White, Ed Asner, Valerie Harper and Cloris Leachman. The final episode, which aired in 1977, featured the entire cast gathering for a hug and then slowly shuffling off camera together, still in hug formation.

The MTM finale is one of the most famous in TV history.  You tell me if the LA Times, paper of record for the entertainment industry, describes it correctly:

Hasn't Got A Prayer?

At a National Prayer Breakfast, President Obama seemed to say that Jesus supports his political programs.  There's something untoward here.  I understand that religious people--which most presidents claim to be--get their morality, or at least believe they get (some of) their morality, from their faith.  And I suppose it can't help but inform their political choices (though even that makes me a bit wary).

But when a politician starts claiming Jesus, or whomever he prays to, would come down strongly on one side of a partisan issue, it doesn't sit right.  Especially when you're talking about some abstract virtue (charity, responsibility, kindness) that both sides support, but in different ways.

I think I understand why the President said this.  It was at a prayer breakfast, a natural place to talk religion, and seemed to be a political move, since certain policies of his have riled people (especially Catholics) along religious lines.  He wants to assure them, as it were, that he's acting in good faith.

But it's troubling when a politician starts talking about how Jesus would come down on various political issues of the day.  I think it cheapens both religion and politics at the same time.