White Ribbon

I saw "White Ribbon" tonight at the Film Forum in Manhattan. Those of you who are attending NYU or FIT or Cooper etc. should keep this place in mind. It's over on Houston Street (remember it's not pronounced like the city in Texas) just west of 6th Avenue. It shows a lot of great stuff, mostly oldies, but also foreign films that won't be released widely in the US. It's a treasure, really, and if you're living in the area, use it.

Tonight I saw a great film, "White Ribbon." I'm too tired right now to expand on it, but if it gets released widely, (which I doubt) go see it. It's an amazing film.

I hope everyone is well. Best wishes for a great New Year. Was Y2K really ten years ago?

PS. Article in today's NY Times about "The Big Lebowski." Any Dude lovers out there, check it out.

A word of encouragement

A kind word for those of you who are not loving your new lives at college. I basically hated my first semester, and wanted to be home when I was away, and wanted to be away when I was home. I felt like a man cast adrift.

By the time my senior year rolled around, I didn't want it to end. I just loved it. I felt like I had come into my own as a person, and that person, with further evolutions, is still alive today. The person I was before college is gone.

Anyway, your experience may not dovetail with mine, but those of you who are window shopping in gun shops, wondering what the mimimum calibre pistol appropriate for blowing your brains out, just hunker down and wait it out. Things get better.

Which reminds me of the guy who decided to commit suicide, and went to a gun shop to buy the implement of his self-destruction, but was deterred when he saw how expensive the guns were. He'd be damned if he'd lay out that kind of dough for something he'd only use once.

The Men Who Stare at Goats

I'm one of those damned fools who believes he can judge a new acquaintance by the look on his face, and a movie on the basis of the trailer. When I was a kid, the trailers were much better. They gave you a small taste, a teaser basically, but they never clued you in to the plot. Nowadays, the trailers are twice as long, and they tell you the entire story upfront. I guess the money people at the studios did some research and found out that people like to know upfront what it is they're going to be watching. I'm not one of them. Anyway, based on the trailer, I thought this movie was going to be much better than it was.

First of all, it had a lot, and I mean a LOT of voice over narration, and this was coupled by a lot, and I mean a LOT of explanatory dialogue between the two main characters played by George Clooney and Ewan McGregor. And you guys remember how I used to rail against voice over. My criticism that a movie should be shown and not told is, in many instances, unfair, because the structure of a particular film may call for narration, and the narration may be organic, and not "cheating." But I hate it anyway.

By the way, forgive me for using this opportunity to return to my former profession, but the film is a send-up of another film, a parody in other words. The references are not heavy-handed, but if you've seen the other film, you'll recognize it. Nick? Are you listening? I figure you'll see this film. And I know you've seen the film that it parodies. Hence, I am putting you on the spot. I don't recall seeing it mentioned in any reviews, but doing research of this kind is cheating, and I have always expected, (and received) more from you. Hence, quiz commences. Or gauntlet thrown, if you prefer.

For the rest of you, I do not give this one a high rating.

N.B. Professor, I thought you were going to send me a link to that video of my Ticker-tape parade. Can you just give me the Facebook account, or do I have to be invited by the postee?

Ticker Tape Parade

When the Yankees won the World Series back in 1996, I decided to have a bit of fun. I marched my class down to Callahan's room, and we threw shredded paper all over the room, all the while marching around and around, chanting, "Eat your heart out Callahan, Yankees are the Champs again!"It was great theatre, and a great morale booster for the troops, who live for that kind of stuff. Naturally, I repeated it in 1998, and 1999. Being a Met fan made it harder in 2000, but it had become a tradition, and had to be done.

Then came the dark years, when Boston rose Phoenix-like from the ashes, and won two World Series and few Super Bowls. Callahan led a parade through my room after one such debacle, but the marchers marched under duress, and sullenly tossed their paper. I was proud of them.And so, today, I was not about to let the small and trivial detail of no longer working at Staten Island Tech deter me from my traditional role of "taunter of Callahan."

So, I emailed Manzo first thing this morning, and found, to my glee that a class was scheduled at the perfect time. I poked my head into his room before-hand, which ruined the surprise a bit, but added to the fun also, when he said, "I knew you wouldn't let me down, Bennett." The kids didn't know what a treat as in store for them, and they were gleeful when an entire brigade, including Manzo's class, and Ms. Ginos, (who had made a huge bag of confetti just for the occasion) strode down the hall and into his room.Prophetically, Manzo was teaching in room 310, my old room, the very one that I had launched so many epic parades from in year's past.

Alas, the Yankees denied me during my tenure in 313. I always thought something was missing.After we circled the class thrice, I hopped up onto a desk and proclaimed, "Let us hail the new Yankees, who, like their name-sakes, who saved the Union during the Civil War, have united the nation once again under the banner of Yankee greatness." We then asked Callahan to join in the salute, which he did, to his credit, but when we asked him to join the Yankee cadres, he demurred.

It was a lot of fun, but I have to say I was pretty downhearted when I left the building to rush off to my new job, which I loathe.

Until next year, then!

Amelia

I saw Amelia, with Hilary Swank and Richard Gere. I had very low expectations, so even a mediocre film would have satisfied me, and I was satisfied on that basis. It was Saturday afternoon, a rainy miserable day, and I needed something to get me out of the moment. I thought Amelia would be tolerable for a couple of reasons. FIrst of all, I figured it would be stunningly, beautifully, filmed, and I was right. Every room, every cigarette lighter, every Scotch and Soda shimmered in art deco delight. You could almost taste the cherry red enamel high gloss finish of one of the planes she flew. And all this is before anyone takes flight. The flight scenes only added to the visual enjoyment.

The second reason I thought it would be ok was that biography films are usually that, namely, "ok" and not much more. They're usually not terrible because there is an intrinsic interest all of us have in the course of someone's life. In this regard, I think bio pics of lesser well known figures are generally more interesting than those of iconic figures. After all, we kind of know most of the details of Lincoln's life. But aside from the fact that she was a famous aviatrix, who wore her hair in a mannish way, who was lost in the Pacific while attempting a circumnavigation of the globe, I knew next to nothing about Amelia Earhardt. Interestingly, the film tends to downplay, rather than exalt, her accomplishments. In fact, it appears that that there really wasn't much more to know beyond the facts related in the sentence that preceded the one you are reading now.

But, the aerial photography, and the beautiful facial close-ups keep one watching. For those of you who don't think Hilary Swank has a beautiful face, I was referring to Richard Gere, who certainly does. And her face is very interesting if it isn't classically endowed.

Without knowing anything about her, I kind of suspected that she was gay. I had no reason to think it, and I can't say I ever discussed it openly. But, her mannish style and aggressive spirit in an age when women were not encouraged to have those things might have made me ask the question, were I so inclined. The film shows her as being very heterosexual, with the exception of one rather interesting scene. She is sitting with her soon-to-be-lover and she looks at another woman sitting across the room, and remarks on how beautiful she is. Her companion says that she always notices women, or something to that effect. But, the topic is never explored further.

Naturally, I was waiting to here Joni Mitchell's song, "Amelia" which is very evocative, but the score was original, suggestive of the 1930's, and the insertion of a post-modern ballad of sorts, would not have fit.

The Invention of Lying

I saw this film yesterday and enjoyed it very much. If you see it, I think you'll know why I liked it so much. I'm not going to review it here, but suffice it to say that the film was actually original in its concept. For a comedy, that's high praise.

I attend a lynching.

I had the singular experience last night of being screamed at by an unruly mob of 800 people. It was at a "Town Hall" meeting given by Congressman McMahon to discuss health care reform. The crowd was overwhelmingly opposed to the bill currently winding its way through Congress. While I'm not particularly enamored of the bill myself, I think it's important that the country move forward in some meaningful way in this area. We can't just do nothing. At this point, a bad bill might very well be better than none at all.

But when I started to speak in favor of reform, the crowd tried to drown me out by howling. I've never had an experience like that before. It was exhilerating! Rather than becoming nervous or cowed, I started really enjoying myself, and I even began to antagonize the crowd, as one might a caged wild animal. It was great theatre.

Anyway, there's a rather prominent picture of me in the Advance today. It's a nice picture, but for some odd reason, perhaps owing to reflected light, a weird optical illusion makes it look like I have lost most of my hair. Very strange.

On Leaving.

It feels so strange that the new school year has begun and I'm not part of the action back at Tech. For twenty years I saw one after another of my colleagues leave, most to retirement, a few, alas, to death, and a lucky few to new careers. It is always bittersweet to stand, handkerchief in hand, waving to the metaphorical ocean liner as it yaws seaward, an old friend on deck shrinking to nothingness. And as we turn from the shore, back to our quotidian routine, a melancholy descends like a fog. I usually fight this sadness by concluding, with practiced shadenfraude that the ship in question is the Titanic, but it's always sad to be left behind.

The most painful of these send-offs was with Bonamo. His departure was so sudden and unexpected, unlike the many sad though organic retirements I've endured. He was the future of the school, no doubt about that. Brilliant, hard-working, honest, kind, tough, a man who loves life and brings his energy to everything and everyone he touches. What a loss for us as a school, and for me personally. We had become such good friends. I knew I could trust him. I knew I could work with him. The future was very bright.

Then, in May I came in to his office and the teachers were all aflutter about an inspection the superintendant from Queens was going to visit upon us. I said nothing, but waited until everyone but Bonamo had left the room. He peered at me guiltily, fully anticipating the interrogation which was to ensue, an onslaught that he well knew he was ill prepared to withstand.

"What's the story, Bonamo?," I asked. He hemmed and hawwed and looked at his shoes, and finally said that he would prefer not to say. I narrowed my eyes and lowered my voice, and let him have it with both barrels. "Oh, you'd rather not say, huh? Now you listen to me, you fat f***, we can do this one of two ways. Either you tell me right now why that big mucky-muck is coming, after which you and I will concoct some cock and bull story that I will help you feed to the staff, thereby keeping your secret intact with my help, .... or you can continue to lie, in which case I will go to every person in the school and tell them that there's a big secret afoot and Bonamo's up to no good and we all have to figure out what it is. So, big-boy, what's it going to be?"

He stared at me for a long time, then he sighed and said simply, "I'm going to be the Principal of Townsend Harris High School in Queens."



I walked back to my room, closed the door, sat down at my desk, and wept. What a loss.



Anyway, this year was my turn.

Casablanca

This truly remarkable film was on TCM again last night, and I happened to tune in toward the beginning. It is almost impossible to turn this film off. It draws the viewer in, with an almost Svengalian power. I find the same thing happens when I watch a scene from The Godfather. I can't shut it off. I think it has to do with what critics call "pacing." I never looked up what that word means, but i think it refers to the quality that some films have of being consistently interesting without any letup. And, Casablanca is such a film. The plot is rather complex, but is described brilliantly, and clearly. THe characters are fascinating, and fully explored. The dialogue is first rate all the way. If you've never seen this film please take the time to see it.

Some truly memorable lines of dialogue, one of which is NOT "play it again, Sam." This is one of several immortal lines that never were uttered in film, "you dirty rat" by Cagney, and "Judy, Judy, Judy" by Cary Grant being two others that spring to mind. Anyway, the line that gave me the most pleausre last night came from Captain Renault, responding to Major Strasser's dismissing Rick Blaine as a "blundering American." Says Renault, "we must not underestimate American blundering. I was with them when they blundered into Berlin in 1918." Touche'.

By the way, forgive me for being so self-centered, but I would like to know if anyone is actually reading this blog anymore. Say hello to your old teacher and friend. I hope you're all enjoying your first or second week of colllege. I'll try to write a bunch of essays in this blog to provide you with plenty of material with which to procrastinate during the time you should be working on your essays etc.

The Outrage

I was watching "The Outrage" with Paul Newman on TCM today. He plays a Mexican bandito who kills a man and rapes his wife. The story is told four times in flashback. I immediately thought that it sounded a lot like "Roshamon," a classic of Japanese cinema directed by Akira Kurosawa (who wrote the screenplay upon which Runaway Train was based).

I saw Roshamon over thirty years ago, but I recall the story vaguely. Again, a rape/murder recalled by the particpants, and then the truth revealed by a hitherto unknown witness. It's considered a seminal work and an icon of "post-modernism," where truth is always relative. My opinion of it at the time was that it suffered from a fatal flaw, namely that it asked the viewers to accept the last version of events, those related by the "impartial" witness, as being "true." Even as a callow youth of 19 or so, it was not lost upon me that a truly post-modern statement would not allow that any version of events contains ultimate truth. All versions must be suspect. Thus did I turn up my nose upon Roshamon.

But this version was truly laughable! Paul Newman, of all people playing the role of the Frito Bandito, dark greasy hair, handle-bar mustache, and classically stereotypical Mexican bad-ass accent, with long eeeee sounds, as in weeeeel for will, and constant use of the third person form while referring to himself.

Hollywood usually turned to its favorite "half-breeds" of dubious ancestry to take on such roles. Favorite among this group is Anthony Quinn. Others of the same ilk included Ricardo Montalban, Jack Palance, Fernando Ferrar, and a few others. My all-time favorite fake Mexican desperado is Eli Wallach, in real life a Jewish kid from Brooklyn. His "Tuco" in the Good, the Bad and the Ugly" is among the great performances in cinema. Certainly the role of a life-time. But, Paul Newman? No way. Unless...

Yes, perhaps the movie's makers knew their audience well. The one thing all versions of the story agree upon is that the woman is raped. It's strong stuff. Perhaps, in order to soften the impact of the violation, they wanted an actor who was "attractive," if you will. In most of the four versions of the story that is told, the woman is ambiguous in her feelings towards her attacker. Perhaps the director felt that the audience would be better able to accept such a portrayal if the actor was acceptable on some level.

If you are interested in any of this stuff, I would advise you to watch Roshamon, (which I may be mis-spelling). It is one of the giant films of cinema history, up there with "Citizen Kane." The remake is justifiablly not highly regarded or remembered.

Julia? Delightful. Julie? Like needles in eyes

I walked out of Julie and Julia last night. The film was broken into two separate strands, like The Godfather Part II, or The Hours (which was three strands, actually). The story-line about the famous culinary personality Julia Child, with Meryl Streep playing the lead, was very entertaining, especially for a Francophile and recent visitor to France, like myself. But, the strand about the modern yuppie who writes a blog about her experiences in cooking through Juilia CHild's most famous cookbook, is so unwatchably painful and boring that I had to leave. Never has the "fast-forward" button been desired more fervently at a film. Could I have skipped the one section in favor of the other, I would have stayed. Hence, my recommendation for this film is to wait for it to come out on DVD, when your remote control button will be near at hand.

Words to live by.

Not a day goes by that I don't quote a specific line of dialogue from Dr. Strangelove. It comes from the scene where General Turgidson is explaining to the President that General Ripper has sent his bombers to attack Russia. He reads a message from Ripper that ends with a reference to precious bodily fluids. Turgidson comments to the effect that "we are still trying to figure out what that means." The President's reply is my current favorite line from a film, and my guide to surviving in a crazy world. Says he, "There's nothing to figure out. The man is clearly a psychotic!"

Every day, either I, or the people around me, or the press, or the governemnt, is "trying to figure out" why someone has behaved in a manner that directly goes against common sense and their own best interests. For years I would join in the analysis, delving into matters of passion, psychology, philosophy, etc. But no more. Now, I end all such conversations very quickly by saying, "There's nothing to figure out. [Fill in name] is clearly a psychotic."

Once you adopt this simple guide to understanding the behavior of others, your life becomes so simple. In fact, it is particularly useful in matters dealing with the relations between the sexes. Consider the amount of time spent by men trying to figure out why women act the way they do. Meanwhile, the answer is clear. (Ok, gals, I was just kidding. I'm sure the formula works just as well for women who want to analyze the actions of men. However, being male, I can't help but feel that it has greater resonance when pointed toward the distaff half.)

Anyway, please try it out for yourself at the earliest opportunity. You will be amazed and gratified at how incredibly wise you sound, and your friends and family will hail you as a genius. As soon as anyone starts in with that same old litany, "oh, did you hear about so and so, and what he did, now why did blah blah,..." cut them off immediately "There's nothing to figure out. The man is clearly....

Two pre-code gems

I recommend two film for your enjoyment. The first is "Baby Face" 1933, with Barbara Stanwyck. They recently found the uncut version and I saw it on TCM not too long ago. Netflix will probably still have the cut version, unfortunately. Frankly, those of us used to very tame themes in older films will find this tale of a girl who sleeps her way to the top of the corporate ladder, an eye-opener.

The second is "The Smart Money" with Edward G. Robinson. Again, a film from 1931 that portrays a morally ambiguous protagonist, namely, Eddie G. as a gambling skirt-chaser with a heart of gold. This one is guaranteed to please. Order it and watch it with the whole family. Don't worry. It's not too risque' for Mom.

A sendoff, of sorts

I posted this on my Xanga blog back in August of '06. If it alleviates any fear you might be experiencing on the eve of your departure for college, then I'm glad.


I guess a lot of my old friends from the class of '06 are on their way to college this week. I would imagine that you are feeling a certain level of anxiety. After all, college is one of those destinations that you've been heading for for so many years. And now, here it is. So, it would be sort of strange if you felt no anxiety at all over such a significant milestone in your life.
Well, for what it's worth, let me tell you that the single most interesting and rewarding experience of my life was going away to college. More happened to me in that four year period than has happened in all the years since, I think. And I look back on it with such fondness and nostalgia. Of course, I could never live like that again, sharing a single room with a stranger and having no money in my pocket. But, to be on my own like that for the first time was such bliss. And of course, I was able to confirm what I had suspected for many years, namely that I was smarter and better-looking than just about everybody else. Of course, I also found out that being smarter and better looking than everyone else really doesn't count for much.
In all seriousness, it was the professors who really changed my outlook on things. Talk about being smarter than everybody else! To have the opportunity to spend several hours a day in the presence of such brain power. It really opened my eyes about a lot of stuff.
Anyway, the first year had some rough edges. I actually found myself feeling a touch of homesickness on occasion. But, after that, I never looked back. And by the time my last year rolled around, I really didn't want to leave. So, be of good cheer my friends. You're off on the start of a great adventure, one that you must not miss. I envy you.

Another anomaly

For some reason, my blog says that I am not "following" anyone. Is it possible that I pressed a "delete" button of some sort? Oh well.

Anyway, the summer has been pleasant, as all summers are. I travelled to Brussels, then drove to a number of interesting places in Belgium and France. I recommend them all, at least for lovers of art, culture, food, beautiful landscapes, great biking, friendly people, stunning architecture. Here are the places I went:

1. Brussels
2. Ghent, site of Van Eyck's Altarpiece of the "mystical lamb." an amazing work of art. I saw the house that they signed the treaty that ended the War of 1812, too.
3. Bruges. I have to see the film again. The city is like an enchanted fairytale. Alas the main museum was closed for repairs. Did I mention that I was so disappointed that I cried. I cry rarely, and only when people die or when spectacular meals are ruined somehow.
4. Ypres. A battlefield site from World War One.
5. Bayeaux. The famous tapestry of the same name is worth the trip to Europe alone. But, great art moves me in a way that it might not some one else. I recall a student from a few years ago, I think she's still at Tech, so I won't out her, complained in a strident manner about how I sent the class to a museum. She went on and on about it, saying how awful it was and how meaningless etc. I rather liked her before this outburst, but afterward, I sort of felt like she and I were not members of the same species.
6. Normandy. Site of American invasion on D-day, but a lot of other stuff too, like Mont St. Michel, a sublime monastery set on an island just off the coast.
7. Chartres. The only cathedral left with a full compliment of 13th century stained glass. In every other cathedral, the local citizens destroyed all the glass during the French Revolution. Gives you some idea of how much the Church was hated.
8. Verdun. Scene of the single worst, most wasteful battle in history.
9. Argonne Forest. Site of the American offensive during World War One. There's a cemetary there that is one of the most beautiful places I have ever been. It is the largest American Cemetary outside the US, and I was the only person there. It is immaculately maintained with the most beautiful gardens, ponds, enormous tree lined paths, perfectly manicured lawns, ... and the graves of 15,000 dead Americans.

I guess most of you are packing your bags for college. A certain degree of anxiety must accompany that. I wrote an essay on my old Xanga a few years ago that I sent to my students who were "on their way." I'll try to dig it up and post it here later tonight or tomorrow.

In Bruges

My title says it all.  I am currently in Bruges, Belgium.  I am anxious to watch the film again when I get home, but there is one thing I can say for sure.  Even a total moron  like the main character would never call this city a dump.  It is absolutely the most beautiful place on earth.  A medieval gem.

Unfortunately, the main museum that houses one of the most beautiful works of art in the world is closed for renovation.  When I saw the sign on the door, I burst into tears.  I wish I was exaggerating because I am not one for crying.  But I was so disappointed that I came all the way to Belgium and I won't be able to see Van Eyck's altarpiece with the Canon Vander Peale, that I really did  become despondent.  Luckily, there is much else here to console the down hearted.  We'll stay a few days and then head over to Ypres, site of the famous battle in WW1.  I was biking in the Flemish countryside today and my wife pointed to some poppies blooming on the roadside.  The words to the famous poem came to mind.  "In Flanders field the poppies grow, upon the crosses row on row."   Such a sight in the US would cause a national emergency.  The Drug Enforcement Administration would cordon off the entire district, while helicopters would descend spraying tons of toxic poison.   

Ammo

While watching "Public Enemies" the other night, I was struck by how few movies portray gunfire, especially automatic weapon fire with anything close to accuracy. The two aspects of gunplay that movies almost always get wrong are the amount of "kick" a firearm has, and the amount of ammunition is available to the firer.

In the case of the Thompson .45 caliber sub-machine gun, (the "sub" referring to a weapon that fires bullets ordinarily used in smaller guns) one can only imagine (I have to since I have never fired one) that the recoil is fairly substantial. A .45 caliber round is almost a half-inch in diameter, after all. Thus, the scenes where the characters were firing one handed were probably not very accurate. In fact, I recall reading that soldiers who carred the "Tommy" gun in WW2 were instructed to aim for the enemies right foot. The reason for this was that the weapon would ride up and to the right as you fired it. Therefore, you would "stitch" your target with a series of bullets running from his right foot up to his left shoulder. Related to the idea of recoil is the fact that bullets have very good penetrating power and they fragment when they hit something hard. Therefore, hiding behind the window sash is not a good strategy. The hail of bullets coming in from outside will most likely travel right through the plaster walls and kill you. Also, when bullets hit glass the glass itself becomes a flying projectile moving with enough force to seriously wound. Fragmented bullets were the bane of the German Army during WW1, especially when they faced the British Army, who were equipped with a bullet that was notorious for its penchant for fragmenting. Bullet fragments usually didn't kill you, but they would put an eye out for sure. These are not the same as the famous "Dum-dum" bullets that were designed to cause maximum damage on impact with the body.

The second problems with movies and guns has to do with the sheer volume of bullets that movie characters are able to bring to a gun battle. During one scene in "Public Enemies" both sides were firing full force with Tommy guns for several minutes. I turned to my wife and said "I wonder where the tractor trailer is with a fork-lift operator and a dozen stevedores unloading pallets of ammo. The entire 101st airborne division doesn't carry as much ammo as these guys brought to a lake-side resort hideout. It is much more typical for the person firing an automatic weapon to husband his ammo, firing in short bursts of three to five rounds. Unloading an entire clip of 20 (or 50 in the round drum) bullets in just a few seconds leaves you high and dry. Your opponent will know you are out of ammo as well, and will use this pause as you reload to his advantage.

I'm trying to recall films where the ammo problem is dealt with accurately, and I'm afraid I can't think of any. Next time you watch "Saving Private Ryan, for example or some such war film that purports to accuracy, try to keep what I've said in mind and see if they keep to any kind of accuracy in that regard.

Shell Beach

I was bicycling on Shelter Island this weekend, and I saw a sign for Shell Beach. Naturally, I turned and pedalled hard to see what it looked like. I saw a second sign for it, and continued on my way. As I reached the end of the small peninsula I was riding down, there was no sign for it, and despite riding this way, and then that way, I was unable to locate it. When I asked the locals, they pointed in the general direction, but were strangely vague about how to get there. I never did find it.

True story.

Graduation Speech.

Here's a copy of the remarks I made at graduation today. I diverged from the written text to some extent, but I won't try to reconstruct the actual speech.

-------------------------------------------------------

My dear friends from the class of 2009, as you know, I am leaving Staten Island Tech after 20 wonderful years and I wanted to say goodbye.

I am leaving for two reasons. First, I realized that this class is the best I am every going to experience ever. The class of 2010 may be just as good, but it cannot be better. Moses and I have been to the mountaintop, and now it’s time to come down. The second reason is that I am going to work for the only institution that I love as much as Tech, namely the United Federation of Teachers, and they don’t make you write lesson plans.

It’s a sad day for all of us, but don’t you people worry. You’ll do fine as long as you remember all the lessons that the teachers at Tech taught you every day. And this is the greatest teaching staff in the universe. This is the All-Star Team. It’s the 1927 Yankees. Naturally, I am Babe Ruth. Scavo can be Lou Gehrig. After all, our own Iron Horse hasn’t missed day of work in 20 years. Dr. Aronson is Tony Lazzeri. Manzo: John McGraw

There are two lessons that you learn from any great teacher and from every great teacher, regardless of subject, time, or place. I told you about it on the first day of Freshman year. It is the ability to think independently, critically, analytically, and creatively. Human thought is the most powerful force in the universe, my friends, and you possess that power. Question authority, but don’t disrespect it automatically. Always know that the story you hear is often a lie but is always more complex than either you or the teller can possibly imagine. And always remember: To live thoughtfully is to live fully.

The second lesson every great teacher imparts is a simple one, and you learned it from your parents first. We just repeated the words, and I steal from Mark Twain here in describing it… “Always do the right thing. It will gratify your friends, and astonish everyone else.”

Today I look out upon not just this great class, but, in my minds eye, at all the classes I have taught, well over 3,000 students. The class of

1990
1991,
1992, featuring Mr. Erlenwein, AP at Tech
1993, starring Ken Bonamo, Principal of Townshend Harris HS
1994, featuring Dr. John Davis, Teacher of Physics
1995,
1996, with beloved teachers, Noel Cibelli and Jill Bergstrom
1997, featuring our very own Mr. Manzo
1998,
1999
2000,
2001, featuring my colleague, Jessica Pagliaro
2002, starring English teacher, Kristin Grunwald,
2003, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9,
and even including the classes of 2010, 11, and 12, you know, those kids back at the ranch.

I am thinking about you all. You know, there is one word that describes the relationship between a teacher and his students. Your parents know the word. It defines their relationship with you as well. The word is love. And you people will simply never know how much I love you and how much you have meant to me.

And so, let us say, well, I hate goodbyes. Instead, let’s say “We’ll meet again.” I have a better idea. Let’s sing it. My film class knows the tune and the lyrics from the end of Dr. Strangelove.

We'll meet again
Don't know where Don't know when
But I know we'll meet again
Some sunny day

Keep smiling through
Just like you always do'
Till the blue skies
Drive the dark clouds far away

So, will you please say hello
To the folks that I know
Tell them I won't be long
They'll be happy to know
That as you saw me go
I was singing this song

We'll meet again
Don't know where
Don't know when
But I know we'll meet again
Some Sunny day.

Congratulations to Class of '09

Congratulations and best wishes to all of you! Yours was a great class, one that I enjoyed through several venues. First the anxious and rather shell-shocked youngsters I tried to un-indoctrinate in your freshman global classes. Then, the rather sober and serious juniors for whom I attempted to redefine the word "patriotism." And lastly, the hard-boiled, jaded film noir heroes I shared a love of film and a bemused disilusionment about life with.

It was such fun watching you descend into utter madness. Welcome to the happy fraternity!

Truly a Dark City

As rain fell on me, albeit briefly, today for the upteenth day in a row, I was reminded of one of my favorite lines from one of my favorite films,

"I don't think the sun even exists in this place."

Lost version of All Quiet on WF at Film Forum

I was at the Film Forum on Sunday to see a French film noir from 1963 called Le Combat dans L'il" or something close to that. It was an interesting allegory about how society is seduced by the right wing elements. No matter. The reason I'm posting is because I saw that a special version of All Quiet on the Western Front will be screening in early August. Supposedly, it's an altered version, with missing footage. I'll see if I can dig up the link and post it below. I'd definitely go see it, but I'll be in France that day.

Hope all of you are enjoying your adulthood. I have found mine to be more satisfying than childhood, but not all it could be, somehow.

ALL QUIET ON THE WESTERN FRONT at Film Forum in New York City

Wild Strawberries

The end of our class was poignant for me, as it represented the end, not only of a truly great class, but also of my teaching career. One always likes to go out on a high note, and in this instance we're talking about a high C.

I know I said several times that this was the best film class ever. As honest as I was when I uttered those words, it really is not fair to the other 20 or so film classes that I taught over the years. Most of them were also very superior, and one or two of them were terrific. So, let's just say that this one was special for several reasons. First, it was an all volunteer army. In the past, it took me a week or two to bring around all the sour-pusses who did not want to be in the class. This time, we really hit the ground running. Second was the new technology. I actually used to teach the class on a 27 inch TV. This was the first time I had the luxury of the big screen. And, the blogs added an entirely new element to the class, and extended my enjoyment beyond the 41 minutes of actual face time.

I want to thank everyone who helped make the class so special. Everybody contributed something, whether it was cogent analysis, elegant posts on the blog, laughing at all the jokes, or just thoughtful appreciation of the films and the discussion. Normally, I would not single anyone out for special mention. But, considering the sheer volume of commentary on their blogs, I hardly think anyone will be offended if I extend a special word of thanks to James and Nick. These two guys went above and beyond in every way, and they should know that I bragged about them to my family, colleagues, administrators, etc. Their work was amazing, both in quantity and quality. Over fifty posting each on their respective blogs. I encourage those of you who either have not read their blogs, or those few of you -- incredibly -- have not "followed" them, to check out their work.

On the last day of classes, we had a quorum of about 10 students, so we discussed a way to judge the films we saw. I thought we'd use the Acadamy Awards method. See Nick's last post for his take on this. I think my vote would go this way:

Best Picture to Unforgiven. I thought this award should go to a film that tried to do something big. This film was hugely ambitious in that attempted to rewrite the entire book on the Western. Also, it brought together enormous talent, many actors, several sets, several story lines all of which converge (remember English Bob?) Nominations to All Quiet, and Runaway Train.

Best Director to Orson Welles for Citizen Kane. Remember how important this film has become, influencing generations of directors. Welles rewrote the book on what great direction is all about. Nominations to Seventh Seal and Dark City

Best Actor: Jon Voigt for both films. Not really allowed, but the way he became those two characters was really uncanny. Nominations to Peter Sellers and Guy Pierce for Dr. Strangelove and Memento respectively.

Best supporting actor: Gene Hackman, Unforgiven, Nominations for Gunnar Bjorstrom and Dustin Hoffman. (Hoffman was really a co-star, though)

Best Actress: Frances McDormand, Fargo. Nominations to Brigit Fonda and the wife who got blown away with the shotgun, both from A Simple Plan

Supporting Actress: Who knows? The two girls who pickled all the vegetables in The Atomic Cafe

Best Screenplay: Runaway Train. The lines of dialogue, the focus, the Greek tragedy. Gotta go with this one. Nominations to Citizen kane and Unforgiven

Best Music: Midnight Cowboy, then Citizen Kane, then Dr. Strangelove. Atomic Cafe had incredible music also.


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And so, my career as a teacher appears to be ending. I don't imagine that I will do anything in the future that gives me as much joy and fulfillment. And I am proud to say that I was never happier than I was when I had a class listening intently to me. Ho, the joy it gave me to hear the entire class laughing uproariously to some outlandish joke I made. Or the faces of students hearing some new interpretation of events in history, or whatever. It was a powerful feeling.

My very last class yesterday, I showed the end of The Seventh Seal. How appropriate and how significant. During the "wild strawberry" scene, as Antonius Block held the bowl of milk up and declaimed on the ephemeral nature of life's joy, I looked out at my class. All eyes were rapt upon the screen. They didn't see me looking out at them. And I realized anew that I loved them all so deeply, not just those who sat in front of me at that moment, but all the students, over 2000 all told, who made my life so meaningful for 20 years.

And, as I gazed upon their young faces, wasn't there a death's mask hanging on the wall in the back of the room? Didn't I have an appointment with a polite, yet stern gentleman to play a game of chess, one that I know I will lose? The answer to both questions is yes, and yet it did not detract from my joy. It made it all the more precious. And I drank deeply of that cup, and so must you.

A Question for you:

Those of you who were my students last year in AP American history recall that I ended the year with a mini unit on film. I showed "All Quiet on the Western Front" and "The Seventh Seal."

I am pursuing the same strategy this year, and my junior class just finished viewing "All Quiet..." My question is whether I should show "The Seventh Seal" next. I am leaning very much in favor of doing that, but I thought I'd ask you for your input. Any thoughts you have would be welcome, and interesting, I'm sure.

Donnie Darko

I did not like this film at all. I thought it was boring and self-indulgent.

Nick commented on his blog that he was unable to comment on this film. He didn't know what to say. I knew it was a bad sign because Nick is rarely at a loss for words. But, I know exactly what he means. The film was well done. It was well-acted. The idea was clever and different. So, it gives me no pleasure to trash this film. But, for me, the sine qua non of any film is whether I care. Do I care what happens? Do I want to know what the MacGuffin is? Do I care about the characters on any level, either loving them, and wanting them to succeed, or hating them and wanting them punished? The answer was no. With 15 minutes left to go, with the secret on the verge of being revealed, all I wanted was the ordeal to be over.

I was bored stiff.

High Sierra

Continuing my pursuit of well-known films with big names that I have not seen, I watched High Sierra, with Humphrey Bogart. Turns out that I had seen it many years ago, but forgot most of it. It's a very quirky film-noir with a left-wing, and even feminist slant. I won't go into all the details. Perhaps James Cassidy has that kind of energy, but not me.

It's hard to say whether I would recommend it to you. I liked it, but I wouldn't show it in class, so I don't know if you'd like it.

Bogart plays a hardened criminal just sprung from prison who is called upon to pull off one more big heist. The film portrays him as basically having a heart of gold, so we are left wondering why he's turned to crime. Turns out that the bank foreclosed on his Indiana farm and left his family penniless. There are several parallels to The Asphalt Jungle, which is not surprising since both screenplays were written by John Huston.

On your recommendation, I rented Donny Darko. An annoying title. I hope the film is less so. I'll watch it tomorrow, most likely.

Fragmented thoughts on Bogart and Edward G. Robinson

Now that I've finally finished "The Wire," my film viewing will pick up. I thought that I would go back and see some of the "big name" films that, for one reason or another, I've never viewed. One such is "Key Largo" with Bogart and Edward G. Robinson. Directed by John Huston, I mentioned that I had watched "The Treasure of the Sierra Madre" a week or so back, and enjoyed it immensely. This was less spectacular, but also great theatre.

Are there any of you who don't know who Edward G. Robinson is? I suppose there must be, and yet, he is so iconic, so often parodied, played the worst sort of scoundrels and the most lovable pussycats, in some ways he stands virtually by himself in the pantheon of Hollywood stars.

Anyway, I won't recommend "Key Largo" to you, as it is rather tedious in parts, but I do recommend you seek out other films with Humphrey Bogart or Edward G. in them. One is rarely disappointed when either of these to giants fill the screen.

A personal favorite Bogart film is "In a Lonely Place." He plays a Hollywood screenwriter suspected of murdering an ingenue. For most of the film, you really don't know whether he did it or not. It is classified as "Film Noir," but it is missing most of the elements of the genre.

Fargo

I am pleased to see that our latest film has so exercised the troops. Of particular amusement is the sight of poor Nick being whacked around like a Pinyata by Benny, James, and even Steve, who arose from his semester-long torpor just to tell us how much he hated this film. Well boys, sorry to disappoint, but Nick is right again. This film has a lot going for it.

First of all, the comments that the Coen Bros. are just using their name to ride on very little effort here. This film was made in 1994 when the Coen Bros. though well-known, did not carry the same weight they do today. Also, this type of film, where the most horrible stuff is portrayed in a folksy, jokesy way, was much fresher and new back then. Pulp Fiction was perhaps the most famous example of this kind of portrayal of the ordinariness of criminal life.

I compared the screenplay to In Bruges yesterday, but didn't have time to explain myself. I was referring to the endless creativity expressed in the dialogue. To have killers orating and proclaiming in Ciceronian pentameter (or whatever) is well known, whether he be Cagney, Bogart, Pacino, etc. But to have killers spouting about how the conversation is rather dull, and how would you like it if I didn't speak to you for three hours etc. This tends to raise the level of absurdity to new heights (or lower them to new depths).

After all, how do you adequately describe a universe that is absurd, but not absurd in a Greek tragedy sort of way, a la Runaway Train. Rather, a universe that is absurd in a ridiculous way. Not only that, but how can the director draw the viewer in to his web of banal evil? The scene where the wife is running around in the snow is truly horrible, but it is horrible because we want to laugh too. She is ridiculous and our inclination is to laugh. But isn't the effect of this inclination to make us uncomfortable, not for her or for the killers, but uncomfortable about ourselves?

The Chinese guy is an extension of this vision. The message is that evil is so pervasive, and so ridiculous and pitiful, that we will brush up against it everywhere, even in the most banal places, and we will not recognize it.

The Wire

Over the last three months or so I have been watching the HBO series "The Wire." It is available through Netflix. There were five seasons, of approximately 12 episodes each, so I was busy watching about 60 hours of tape. That comes out to more than 30 films that I would have seen and commented upon, either favorably or otherwise, on this blog.

While I won't go into a long analysis of the show, I do recommend it. In brief, it tells the story of a small group of Baltimore police and the drug organization that they are trying to smash. But, the story is really a panoramic portrait of the institutions that make up a modern metropolis, from the police and the underworld, to politicians, unions, schools, churches, newspapers, etc. It's one of the very few works of art upon which the label "Tolstoyan" can aptly be affixed.

The fourth season dealt with the schools, and when it started, I was a bit fearful. After all, the first three seasons seemed very realistic, but they dealt with worlds about which I am unfamiliar. Film very rarely gets the schools right. They always exaggerate things to the nth degree, making students appear like monsters, as in "The Blackboard Jungle" and other school horror movies. Or the teachers are made to look like complete idiots, and the kids are all wise and cool. But, amazingly, they got it right. They really managed to capture the way a city school feels.

The show presents a very dark vision of the human experience. (Would I be recommending it if it were otherwise?) The controlling theme is that all institutions fail to carry out the mission for which they were created. Ironically, this includes the institutions of the criminal underworld. Issues having to do with ego, promotion, politics, money, resentment, sex, you name it, all these begin to take on much greater importance than the job itself. And yet, somehow, society moves on. Or does it?

I don't think it's the kind of show that you can start in the middle. Constant references are made to previous action, and the plot is highly complex and interwoven. But, if you have Netflix, and 60 hours of free time, I recommend it. It may not be for grandma, though. There's a lot of violence, incessant profanity, occasional nudity, a sex scene here and there to keep the barbarians interested.

Memory

Didn't Fargo begin with an onscreen message that stated that the film was based on a true story? I'm sure I remember that.

Mariya discusses memory in her most recent blog entry. In particular, she talks about her earliest memory. My earliest confirmed memory is of standing next to my mother at my grandmother's farm in upstate New York. Workmen were pulling down the grain silo that stood next to the barn, and we were watching. As the silo fell, I got a weird sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Afterwards, my mother and I both mentioned the weird feeling we got in our stomachs, and she still remembers it to this day.

I figured that happened when I was three or four years old. But, I chanced to come upon a photograph of the farm dated January 1963 in which the silo is absent, meaning that it was pulled down in teh summer of 1962, at the latest. As I was only 2 years and 4 months old in August of 1962, that is surely my earliest memory.

However, my grandfather died in December of 1961. I have a vague recollection of him. More specifically, I remember my mother asking me if I remembered him, and I said that I did. So, I recall saying that I remembered him, but I can't really say that I remember him directly.

Memory makes us powerful. The fact that I remember 1979, and you don't, gives me an edge. I guess you win thanks to your youth, the many years you have in front of you. But the future is opaque, the past is very clear. And, should I not like part of it, I just remember it differently. Remind you of anyone?

Some thoughts on "A Simple Plan."

This film is something of an anomaly in my syllabus. Every film I've shown thus far comes with an elegant pedigree. In other words, I've shown all films that carry tremendous weight, either by virtue of reputation, director, star, awards, etc. But, "A Simple Plan" has no such gravitas. It was not a big hit, won no awards, has some names in it, but they won't point to this film as the high point of their career. And yet, there's a lot here and I think it stands tall on its merits. And the very fact that it has no pretentions to greatness adds to my admiration.

I think the performances are excellent. You might find my next statement surprising. I think Brigit Fonda gives the strongest performance in the film. The look of evil in her face as she instructs her husband on the next step in the "plan" is worthy of Lady MacBeth herself.

I wonder if any of you were struck, as I was, at the sheer awfulness of the scene when her new baby is brought to her. Here is perhaps the single most exciting and transcendent moment in the life of a woman, the moment when she is introduced to her first child. What an incredible experience, to hold your first child for the first time, the baby that has emerged from your own body. To look into the face of that new person, and see there all the mystery and power of life. To wonder what the years have in store as this unformed ... well you get the point. And instead of thinking about any of that stuff, she is ignoring the child and obsessively planning the next stage of her destruction.

Of course there's no backing out now.

I think you'll like the rest.

Today's discussion

After class today I wondered whether anyone else enjoyed the discussion as much as I did. I know I talk too much, and I hate people who talk too much. Somehow I delude myself into believing that I am exempt from the axiom that states simply and clearly that one should not do all the talking.

And today there were a lot of really good comments. Perhaps there would have been more had I zipped it a bit. Marotta's point that we cannot trust anyone in this film, not even ourselves was right on the money. It's hard to remember exactly what people were saying, but at the time I was very much taken by what Marissa said, and Billy,... Nick, of course, Maria, Sherif, hmmm.... there were others too, but memory is, well. need I say more, considering our topic? Give a shout-out to whomever I left out in the comment section below. Oh, Eric had a very insightful contribution, as I recall. But, damned if I can remember exactly what it was. Remind me.

So, is it education? Did anybody learn anything? Honestly, I don't give a damn. I enjoyed myself thoroughly, felt happy to be alive for 41 minutes. What more can one ask for?

Anyway, I'd say from the reaction of the class that my winning streak is unbroken here. Every major film I've shown has been a home run. "Signs" is the only film I won't go to the wall on. I showed that for a specific reason, namely as a counterpoint to Existentialism.

Our next film is "A Simple Plan." It is another variation on the theme of film noir. The premise is simple enough. Three guys stumble upon four million dollars in cash while walking through a frozen forest wasteland. The main character tells teh other two that they have to turn the money over to the authorities. You can probably imagine what happens next.

Don't yell at me Nick. I promise you that I didnt give anything away. That happens in the first 5 minutes of the film and I won't say a word about the rest except that I am confident that you will enjoy it, and you will have a lot to talk about concerning the basics of film making.

Until tomorrow, then.

Dark City: Changes in the Director's version

The so-called "director's cut" of Dark City has several changes, a few of which improve the film, a few that detract. Here's a list of the things I can recall.

1. The film starts without the voice-over. That explanation is given later, in the rowboat scene.

2. There is no tuning at the beginning. The first hint of the supernatural, aside from the ghostly visage of the strangers, is when Murdoch is confronted by them on the scaffold. (I'm not sure if they put the conscierge to sleep before that. Perhaps)

3. Murdoch, while dressing, turns his shoe over and sees that it has not been worn.

4. Murdoch's fingerprints are shaped like a spiral, leading Bumstead to question whether someone is "joking."

5. Jennifer Connolly's actual voice is used in the songs instead of a professional singer. You can access the two on "youtube." I prefer the actual voice, which is less polished, but more sultry and atmospheric.

6. She sings a lot more of the second song. Detracts, I think from the mood.

7. The prostitute has a small child hiding in the room, the sight of which causes Murdoch to flee. She is later found by Emma and Bumstead after her mother's murder, and has drawn a picture of the three strangers, further leading Bumstead to accept that Murdoch is innocent. Film is better without her in it, I think.

8. Several scenes are just longer, with more dialogue. Frankly, I think the lack of dialogue in the original is better.

9. Murdoch is present, though hiding, when Mr. Hand goes to see Shreber in the pool. He learns more about the whole situation than we are led to believe in the original version. Also, the weakness of the Strangers in not detecting his presence is revealed.

10. Bumstead, while drinking capuccino, sees the swirl in his coffee, leading him to question his reality further.

11. During the the scene where Murdoch tells Emma that it's probable that they have never met before, she says, "I had that same feeling when I saw you at the apartment." But then she says, "no, I've loved you for years and we've been married for years etc." Only the second part is shown in the original. Her doubts are left out.

12. A longer speech is given by Mr. Hand at the harbor when he sees Emma and uses Murdoch's own words from long ago. The shorter version is better.

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I can't prove it unless I watch the two versions side by side, but it seemed to me that they used a number of alternative takes or out takes in the director's cut, for no other reason than to just show an alternative version. I may be mistaken on this. However, if I am correct, the effect is not an improvement. Some of the takes seem inferior. However, it may simply be that they have been made slightly longer. In film, less is often more when it comes to dialogue. Much can be conveyed through gesture, a facial expression, etc. Supposedly, the scene in Citizen Kane where Kane first meets Susan was shortened in this way. At one point, Susan says, "you know how mothers are." The original screenplay supposedly had Kane launch into a speech. In the final cut, he merely mumbles Hm-mmm, with a very meaningful look on his face. We capture it all.

Coming attractions:

Dark City
Memento
A Simple Plan
Dr. Strangelove
Atomic Cafe.

We will finish my syllabus by about June 5. I think we'll have enough time for one more from the floor. Let me know what you want to see that last week.

The Opening scene of Dark City.

I remember vividly seeing Dark City in the theatre on Staten Island when it came out back in 98 or 99. The year before, a big hit was 12 Monkeys, and everybody ooooh'd and aaaah'd about Brad Pitt's performance, which I thought overdone and no more (or less, mind you) than a great imitation of Dennis Hopper in Apocalypse Now. The problem with 12 Monkeys for me was that the riddle was kept up for so long that I started to not care what the answer was. In other words, the director kept the audience in the dark for too long.

For this reason, I thought that Dark City was what 12 Monkeys wanted to be, but failed. I thought we were kept sufficiently in the dark, (pun recognized) for just exactly the right amount of time. Then, once we had a fairly good idea of what was going on, the suspense only heightened. I really loved this film, and I hope that today's beginning whetted your appetite for more.

Along this same line of discussion, however, I have always disliked the opening scene, where the voice-over of Dr. Shreber basically gives the plot away. Fortunately, I have a terrible attention span, and am a really bad movie viewer (the first time around) so I forgot most of what he said.

I was very much tempted to delete that scene today, but I didn't because the cut was not seamless, and I just decided not to. But, lo and behold, I should have, because I looked the film up on Wiki, and found out that Proyas was forced to add that scene by a nervous studio exec who worried that audiences would be turned off without it. The fact that voice-over of this kind is endemic to film noir somewhat mitigates the crime, but the director's cut, which is available, apparently, starts teh film diffferently.

I also read something else that confirmed a statement I made today in class. (It is gratifying to hear that one's independent analysis is backed up by statistics). Apparently, this film has the shortest average cut time of any film on record at 1.8 seconds. This means that the average time between cuts is less than 2 seconds. During the scene where Detective Wallenski rushes in I think we had about 20 cuts in 5 seconds.

It was an intersting article. Wait until you've seen the entire film and then check it out. Meanwhile, if the class likes the film, perhaps we'll kick in 50 cents a piece, buy the director's cut, view it, and raffle it off among ourselves.

Remind me to send an email to Jessica Creech, class of '02, who loved this film more than it is humanly possible. I found it so gratifying at the time that she shared my love of this film and the memory of it has stuck with me through these years. And of course, she was a great lover of film, and an astute analyst as well.

She would have been right at home with this class, my very favorite, which I have recently given the title, "The All-Star Team."

Asphalt Jungle a hit at last

It always burned me up. Here's this terrific gangster/caper film with a lot of action, memorable and interesting characters, beautifully constructed, with deeply philosophical thematic undertones, and nobody likes it.

It appears as if this year I finally got through. All the heavy hitters have weighed in with the thumbs up, the Mayor, the Professor, T-Bone, Irina and a few others. A few formerly stellar names have gone to ground, but to quote a great anonymous teenager, "whatever."

I think the key is the crystal clear print, on a 6 foot screen, with sub-titles. Years past I showed everything on a 27 inch TV using VHS. It was very hard to decipher the slang of the American actors. Forget about "Herr Doktor." And the word "hooligan" was lost on everybody. That great speech that the Doc gives while Dix is sponging the blood off his head is very important for understanding the theme of the film. In teh past, I used to have to write it on the board.

It's always been one of my favorite films. I love the part where Emmerich asks Dix to shoot him and he says, "ok" and moves to shoot him, only to have Riedneschneider intervene.

I'm so gratified you liked it. In fact, the Mayor gave me such a nice compliment after class on Friday when he said that he was amazed that I've been able to show one great film after another with no loss of power. Each film just seems to build in intensity. There's been no anti-climax.

And now, my friends, just when you thought the class just has to be on the wane, we will see "Dark City," the film most of my previous class voted as their favorite of the year.

Great Lines from The Asphalt Jungle

This movie has some great quotes. We're only about half way through, but here are a few. Tomorrow, try to listen (or read, since I've put the sub-titles on). The Doc gets most of the good lines, like the ones that follow. He gets a bunch more, also. But, Emerich gets the line that sums up the theme of the entire film. Watch for it.

One way or the other, we all work for our vice.

Never trust a cop. Just when you think one's alright, he turns legit.

The Asphalt Jungle

I've always been a huge fan of "film noir," the gritty crime dramas so popular during the 40's and 50's. And the modern updates on the genre always interest me also, though many of them are worse than pulp, instead they are bad remakes of pulp.

The problem for me in the class, however, has always been that students do not share my love of these early noirs. The Asphalt Jungle is one of my all time favorites, but students dislike it for some as yet undivined reason. So, this year I am going to solve the problem beforehand.

It's very simple: You either love "The Asphalt Jungle" or else. I am not threatening anyone, of course, but the last film should suffice as a "word to the wise." So, should you trash this film, either in class or on your blog, and should you subsequently find yourself standing across a saloon from me begging for mercy because you are unarmed, because you "ain't drunk," because you're "building a house," because you brought me a pony, because you "ain't given to wickedness in a regular way," because you "ain't like that anymore" because you "don't deserve this" then I will respond with two actions. First, I will say, "deserve ain't got nothing to do with it." And then I will... er, hmm ...

We'll leave the second action unmentioned, because, after all, "The Asphalt Jungle" will prove absolutely riveting and immensely entertaining to all.

Student favorites

I can think of several films that are named every year as absolute "must see" films by students. Here they are:

1. Requieum for a Dream
2. American History X
3. Fight Club
4. Shawshank Redemption

I liked the last two very much. Both are very professional films made with great skill. The story, script, direction, acting etc. on Fight Club and Shawshank are first rate. I have given my reasons why I thought Shawshank ultimately was disappointing, but that does not mean I disliked it. My feeling is that it could have been more than it was. But, it was good. Fight Club also was very entertaining and thought-provoking.

Now, the first two are less slick. They are both either actual indie films, or at least have the low budget, down and dirty look of the Indie. Hence, they should be judged on a slightly different basis. After all, money should be able to buy a certain level of professionalism.

It's been years since I saw American History X, but I found it to be rather boring, and I did not watch to the end. I thought Ed Norton, or whatever his name is, had way too many long-winded speeches.

Now, on to Requieum for a Dream. I liked the first half hour very much. I thought the acting, pacing, quirky effects, overall theme, were all done very well. But I thought the film basically fell apart in the last half because it became a melodrama. Melodrama refers to overly sensational plot driven vehicles, where character development is sacrificed to plot. All sorts of horrible things occur because the director decrees that it be so. When Will Munny kills Little Bill in Unforgiven, it is becuase he must do so based upon our intimate understanding of his character. No other action is possible. But when the main character in RfoD injects himself directly into a disgusting festering abscess in his arm, we ask ourselves, "don't you have another arm?"

Thus, a good film descends into melodrama, and fails to convince.

However, I know how difficult it is to make a good movie, and I give it a lot of points for effort. An example is the special effect the director uses to show us the experience of getting high on heroin. A close-up of an eyeball with the iris contracting with psychedelic visions in the background is very clever and unique when we see it the first time. After it is shown the 23rd time, it becomes tiresome. One might argue that that is the point. Heroin addicts have to shoot up constantly. That must be awfully repetitive and tiresome also. My point here is that I thought the director tried something pretty cool, but failed in the end.

But why does this film appeal to 17 year olds so strongly, while it left this 42 year old unmoved? The answer, of course, is that I see things clearly and you youngsters are blind, but you do outnumber me, thus I will entertain the (absurdly remote) possibility that I have missed something.

I'm rambling here a bit, but it's late and I'll go on. Years ago, I used to watch Siskel and Ebert, and I found that if they both raved about a film, it was a good bet. If only one of them went for it, I stayed away. The same may be true with us. I know we're all way up there in teh IQ department. But the age differnce is a big gulf. So, if we both really rave about a film, you can bet on it being great.

After class today, Nick stayed behind for a few minutes and commented on how much he liked Unforgiven. His comments echoed my own sentiments to a tee. The subtlety with which Will Munny starts sipping at the whisky bottle. Another director would have had him announce portentously, "Hand me that bottle, Kid." He would have taken an enormous draught as a dramatic musical cresscendo erupted in the background. The other day in class, I mentioned that film analysis is as much about seeing what is NOT present as it is in seeing what is. Nick saw what didn't happen. Anyway, the meeting of the minds between the 17 year old and the 38 year old was gratifying and satisfying. I hope the rest of you enjoyed Unforgiven as much. I'd like to hear your thoughts on it, if you get a chance to write this weekend.

Our next film is one that students almost universally hate.... and I absolutely love. Every year the class tells me that this film is their least favorite. And every year I tell them that they are a bunch of ignorant savages who should never have been allowed to leave the jungle. But this year will be different. You people are not savages. YOu will recognize the greatness of "The Asphalt Jungle."

Oh, apropos of nothing at all, today is my birthday. I was born on April 24th, 1975.

I got cable.

So, I finally subscribed to cable TV. It never made sense for me before since I watch so little TV. In fact, a few years ago my antenna wire was cut and I had no TV at all for about six months. I didn't really notice until football season rolled around again. I think the Jets were doing well that year, so I finally crawled out on the roof and spliced the wire. It wasn't worth it. You know the Jets.

But, the Verizon FIOS package is only about ten dollars more than my current phone and internet bill with no cable. So it didn't seem logical to say no to it. I look forward to having Turner Classic Movies.

Comments in the spirit of Janus

I was thinking about the “Top Hat Mutiny,” and the conclusion I have reached is that the fault – should we need to assign such – is mine. For me to switch gears from such highly symbolic and deeply philosophical films as The Seventh Seal and Runaway Train to one that has an entirely different set of ideals and goals, without any preliminary discussion or introduction, was unwise. This is not to say that my comments regarding the artistic merit of Top Hat were inaccurate. In a different context, I would have had half the class tap dancing through the halls. But, our minds were set to a very different frequency. The dissonance was too great.

The strange thing about it is that I felt exactly the same way many of you did. Here’s a film that I have watched many times, that has captivated me again and again. I love the corny humor and the dancing. Fred Astaire has such an easy grace and winning personality that it’s really hard not to like him. The last time I showed it in class, the response was very enthusiastic. But this time, blah. How does one explain it? My wife mentioned that she had a similar experience with Runaway Train one semester. It just bombed. As much as I resist the idea of a collective subconscious, or group-think, it’s hard to deny that the class, including me, was just not in the dancing mood.

No matter. I needed something to fill the ether for two days as we headed into the vacation. This film sufficed, and you got a small dose of Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. Perhaps in future you may wish to watch it on your own. For now, we’ll leave Top Hat, and move on.

One last word about Astaire. He came to film rather late in life, and in Top Hat, he’s already 36, while Ginger Rogers is only 22 or so. The story of his screen test is part of Hollywood lore. Supposedly the studio notes read, “Can’t act, can’t sing, bald, -- can dance a little.”

Our next film is a western, Unforgiven, 1992, directed by Clint Eastwood. For me, it is the absolute last word on the genre. And what a genre it is! Like them or not, the western is the most iconic of all the genres. By that I mean it is the genre in which the standard elements are best known and understood. I suspect that even those of you who have never seen a Western can describe most of the things that are required. The most familiar prop, of course, is the entrance to the saloon, the swinging double door. God forbid there should just be a simple door that opens and closes tightly. One might suspect that a swinging door could prove impractical on freezing cold winter days. But it’s always summer in Westerns.

Unforgiven addresses all these aspects of the genre. It asks the questions you may have wondered about like the following:

1. How accurate are those guns, anyway?
2. Is the classic gun-fight with a “quick draw” historically accurate?
3. Did everyone own horses?
4. Where exactly is the “west” anyway?

Anyway, if you want to prepare yourself for Unforgiven, why not watch a few westerns over the vacation, just so you know what the genre is all about. I won’t suggest specific titles; you can go to a web site and get all the suggestions. Typically, the years before 1965 had the archetypal western, the kind where the good guys wore the white hats and the bad guys wore black, after that, the westerns became darker and you had the emergence of the “anti-hero,” the guy who was pretty bad, but maybe as good as one could be in a bad world. Check out “The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly” for an anti-western. Unforgiven tries to synthesize the two antithetical versions of the genre, hence it can be seen as the ultimate western, at least until a new thesis is expounded. For a discussion of this idea, look up Hegelian dialectics, or just Hegel. I think his first name was Friederich, but I forget

After Unforgiven, we will embark on a tour of Film Noir. I won’t describe it now. I’ll save that for a later post. But, here are the films we’ll see.

The Asphalt Jungle 1950 John Huston
Dark City 1998 Alex Proyas
Memento 2002 I forget who directed it
A Simple Plan 2000 or so. Ditto on the director.

After that, a Cold War retrospective, featuring my favorite documentary ever, The Atomic Café, and everyone’s favorite apocalyptic comedy, Dr. Strangelove.

At that point, I have come to the end of the road. Which means that there are only about 100,000 possible titles we can watch. Give it some thought.

Note to class.

There are two students who joined the class recently, Irina and Steve. I notice that only 9 of us are following Irina's blog and none of us (except me) are following Steve. Please look them up at the addresses below and "follow" them.

In addition, we should all be following 34 people and 34 people should be following us. If both of these are not true, please correct that situation, at least to the extent possible. Let's say a minimum of 30 for everyone.

Steve: Stevemiester.blogspot.com

Irina: Irinadenisenko.blogspot.com

Some thoughts on our blog-ring.

Today, I chided (gently, I hope) those of you who have not posted much on your blogs. I suggested that I was annoyed that you were somehow not pulling your weight in the class. Actually, that is not really the case. Everyone is doing fine. I'm very pleased with the input and effort of everyone. After all, the class is a senior elective. You are nearing the end of your scholastic careers, and I feel as if I am near the end of mine, as well, (though many years probably stretch out before me. . None of us has anything to prove to the other. We know one another's strengths and weaknesses very well. And none knows his own as well as I know mine.

So, why do I chide you at all? I think it is because I want you to join in the fun. The way I visualize our blog-ring is that there are about 5 or so people who are living in the inner city. They post constantly, and comment often. Residing in the outer boroughs are those who post less often, but with equal brilliance. Then we have those in the suburbs. And then, silently stalking polar bear in the arctic regions, we have the Eskimoes. Haven't you people heard the news? You don't have to hunt for food. Just drive to Waldbaums.

Although blogs are nothing new, my sense is that we are engaged in something rather new, and somewhat important. My hope is that after the class ends, our blog-ring will remain online as a lasting, and public record, an archaeolgogical artifact, if you will, of our semester together.

I would like all of you to be part of that record.

Signs: A Quiz.

I trust you people were unable to concentrate on our new film because you were so bereft over my absence. Please dry your bitter tears since I will be back tomorrrow, God willing.

Here's a question on our new films, "Signs." In "The Seventh Seal" the thematic climax of the film occurs before the plot climax. The former is when the knight distracts death so Jof and Mia can escape with the baby. The latter is when death appears to the travellers and Jof sees them in his vision.

In "Signs," you have a similar thematic climax that occurs before the plot climax. Please identify and explain how this scene is a very effective refutation (argument against) Existentialism.

April Fool

I had posted an April Fool's joke of sorts in this spot, and it was "up" for a few minutes so a few of you might have seen it. But, on further reflection, I decided to take it down as it might have caused anxiety among the more gullible among you. It said that we were going to change the focus of the class. But, we aren't. I'm too old to change much of anything.

See you on Monday.

My own personal Seventh Seal

So, what is it like to teach this film class? It is a joy, of course. When I teach American history, I don't feel like the course is mine, in any way. The curriculum is what it is, despite my best efforts to force a change in the inexorable tide of history. I did consider diverging from the script in a drastic way once, but I knew that the students would probably know that Eugene Debs was never President.

But with the film class, I own it. Think of it this way. Imagine being able to invite 30 of your very best friends over to your place every day to show them your favorite films. Then, after you've finished watching, you force them to sit and listen to you expound on this and that, ad nauseum. Most of us would pay big bucks for the sheer bliss of such an activity. but, I actually get paid to do it. Who's got it better than me?

And you people are indeed my close friends. After all, in my other classes, we have more of a business relationship. The grades are a factor, the tests, the AP exam must be passed, the need to keep discipline is paramount etc. Also, the students are younger, especially the freshman. One has to "lay down the law" and "rule with an iron fist" and "brook no nonsense" and a whole host of other absurd but necessary cliche'd actions. But not here. Here, at last, after three and half years of noses to the grindstone, we can just kick back and enjoy one another's company in a relaxed, yet intellectual atmosphere. You know, it's pretty rare (though not unheard of) that a student in one of my history classes makes an observation or analysis that is so profound that I have not thought of it myself in some fashion. But the films are so complex, and the students so smart that new and unseen observations are the norm here, not the exception. I've learned a lot from the students in my film classes, which only adds to my enjoyment. (Naturally, I will use your material next year without attribution.)

The irony is that this class, arguably the easiest you will take in your long and ongoing scholastic career will remain with you in memory for many years, (I hope) and will impart to you a skill which you will use constantly in your day to day lives. I never like to compare the value of any class with any other. All have value. I just think this one has value out of proportion to the amount of work required of you. (I exempt James from this, as he's currently writing 18 essays per day) (Nick too, but he's poaching from his other blog).

Anyway, I was moved to write this today because the 7th Seal evokes this sense of joy in me perhaps more than any of the films we show. I'm not sure why. Bergman died last year and it occurred to me on that day that there were several hundred former students out there somewhere who thought about this class, however briefly. And I knew that they were proud that they knew who Bergman was, and were able to speak about him intelligently. And several of them contacted me.

I recall the first time I showed the 7th Seal to a class. I thought I was taking a chance. There was no way that a bunch of teenagers would respond to this obscure Swedish art film. I remember pleading with the class to give the film a chance, to not put their heads collectively down upon their desks. How little faith I had in the power of Bergman's art, and in my students. Perhaps you can imagine how overjoyed I was when that class, and every one since, responded so enthusiastically to this film, which is one of my very favorites.

For those of you who are wondering if I can keep up this steady stream of great films, the answer is yes. I've got about a dozen more gems in that filing cabinet and it will be a joy to share them with you.

Squire Jons

Watching The Seventh Seal again for the umpteenth time and it still moves me. The amazing thing about this film is that it actually works. Can you imagine trying to sell this film to a producer? He'd laugh you out of the office. It is a film that simply could never be made today, in the same way that a Van Eyck tryiptych will never be painted ever again. The era has passed.

I'm taken by how beautiful the print looks on the large screen, particularly with the new projector. Those of you who scorn Black and White may wish to rethink your aversion after you see this film in its entirety.

In the past, it was always the knight who was the focus of my attention. Perhaps I identified with his philosophical quest, his agonizing over the great questions. This time, I find Jons far more attractive, in all senses. His attitude, his humor, and even the way he looks. Strange how our sense of aesthetics changes with age. When I was younger, I thought he was ill-cast for the role of a tough, macho-man. He seemed delicate, somehow, and not convincing. Maybe I couldn't get past the leotards.

Nowadays, his vulnerability simply complements and adds nuance to his character. I particularly liked when he saves the girl and then gets annoyed when she's not grateful and doesn't thank him. Or when he gets unnerved by the description of the plague, but denies it.

The Prodigal Son

One of the best movies I've ever seen is "The Prodigal Son" directed by Luis Trenker, from Germany, 1934. While the film itself is very special, the film experience was even more so. You see, it was part of a film series shown at Lincoln Center in 1994 entitled, Films of the Third Reich.

Naturally, I supposed that all of the movies would be dreadful propaganda films showing evil Jews conspiring to destroy the world, like the infamous "Der Ewige Jude" (The Eternal Jew) or "Jude Susse" (Suss, the Jew). Both of these are infamous for their portrayal of the what the Nazis called the Jewish Menace. And both of them are awful films from an artistic point of view. You might think that those two qualities always go together, but you'd be wrong. One of the greatest films of the silent era is D.W Griffith's "Birth of a Nation" 1915, yet its outlook and message are so racist and bigoted that one doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. By way of explanation, suffice to say that the movie's hero is the leader of the Ku Klux Klan.

Anyway, I was very interested in seeing these Nazi movies. My interest was thoroughly from a historical point of view, however. Never in my wildest imagination did I think I was going to see a masterpiece. But, lo and behold, Luis Trenker, whom not one American in 100,000 has ever heard of is one of the giants of cinema, bar none. After fifteen minutes or so, I turned to my wife and whispered, "Am I crazy, or is this one of the best movies I've ever seen?" She replied that it was.

I'm sure you're interested in hearing what it's about. The film is typical of a genre called "Heimatfilm" or films of the homeland. They celebrate German virtues of small town farm life, family, etc. In this film, a farm boy decides to leave Germany and travel to New York to make his fortune. He meets with all sorts of trouble and returns just in time for the winter festival.

The scenes of New York are actually filmed on location in our fair city. In fact, the shots are among the most detailed street scenes of New York city shot during the Depression and are amazing. Much of the film is in English. The final sequence shows a German peasant festival, and is also amazing.

Afterwards, I researched Trenker. Turns out he was not a Nazi, and was not sympathetic, particularly with the regime. However, he elected to stay in Germany and continued to make films. After the war, his career withered for various reasons that I don't recall. The lesson for me was powerful. Great art knows no borders and great artists live in every society. This one, alas, is doomed to obscurity because he happened to be born in a society that we rightly regard as the worst ever. It is simply not acceptable to show a Trenker movie on TV in the United States.

And yet, wasn't the Soviet Union also a totalitarian state, guilty of harrowing crimes? But, the artists of the USSR are celebrated in the US, and we don't hate them, we shake our heads in pity that their great talent was stifled due to their bad luck of having been born in an unfree society.

In film, of course, the greatest name in Soviet cinema is Sergei Eisenstein, and his great work, "Battleship Potemkin" is shown on Channel 13 every other Thursday.

Something light!

So, let's see where we have travelled, shall we? First, we dragged ourselves through the slough of despond that was the First World War, then we discovered that we are all desperately alone and you can never really know another person, a small detour ensued through the gritty world of down and out New Yorkers, only to land on our feet in a desolate Alaskan landscape, hurtling toward our death albeit with a smile and the words, "I am free" on our lips.

I'd say we deserve a break.

Our next film is a song and dance hit from 1935 called "Top Hat," starring Fred Astair and Ginger Rogers. The plot is pretty simple. Astair meets Rogers, is immediately smitten, complications arise that take exactly 89 minutes to resolve. They dance several numbers and finally waltz off into the sunset, arm in arm. No questions of the ultimate meaning of life, the existence of God, the nature of free will, or anything else.

Of course, every film I show is subject to some kind of critical analysis, and this is no exception.

Runaway Train

I trust that all of you will have something to say about Runaway Train on your blogs. This film has an awful lot going on. The problem, if we can call it that, is that the plot is so engrossing that it leaves little brain-time to think about what is going on behind the scenes. However, if everyone contrubutes just a bit, I imagine we'll get a fairly accurate snapshot of what the creators were driving at. I hesistate, again, to give you any direction or clues in this regard. I'd prefer to hear what you have to say before I send you off on a directed treasure hunt. And there's much treasure to be mined in this film, as one would expect with such an elegant pedigree. Kurosawa, Konchalovsky, Milosevic, Zindel, Voigt. Good luck

Runaway Train

And so we begin one of my favorite films. I promised that I wouldn't stop the film after every shot and so far I have kept my promise. Of course, I'm in misery the whole time because there's plenty to talk about already. Even now I want to point out a few things. Like the first time we see Manny in the cell. Steam is escaping from a heating pipe, giving the dungeon the aura of an engine room. From out of the dark we hear the hissing and puffing a locomotive, only it's not a train at all, its' Manny doing push-ups in the dark.

Warden Ranken's speech. "Listen to you [clowns] hiding there in the dark. Let me tell you where it's at. First there's God, then the warden, then my guards. Then, there are the dogs out in the yard. Finally, there's you. Pieces of human waste, no good to yourselves or anyone else."

Favorite lines.

I have watched these films so many times that the lines start to become engraved upon my memory. And a few of them are so useful in my daily life that I employ them regularly, without attribution. Most of the time, it is my wife who is the beneficiary of these lines, spoken in the same cadence, if perhaps not a perfect mimicry of the film. She knows the films as well as I, so it is usually recognized, but I use them among the benighted masses as well, and they know nothing, so I can smile knowingly. The three lines from Midnight Cowboy that I use a lot are:

1. I'm walkin' here! -- usually addressed to my dear wife when the two of us are both working around the house at the same time. She has a way of always getting underfoot. Or is it me that always has a way of getting overfoot? No matter.

2. I'm fallin' apart here! -- Normally spoken to my beloved on a Sunday night when I scan the chaotic wasteland that is my school work files. Occasionally spoken when I have a bad cold or have descended into a black depression. In other words, almost every day.

3. It don't say nothing about you. (repeat with emphasis) This one is rarer, and, again, my wife is the usual beneficiary. You may not recall this line. It is said by Joe Buck to Ratso when they are "invited" to the party by the two weirdo's.

Oh, a word about names. My recollection of the rules for what form of name to use in essays goes something like this. In journalism, a (real) man's name is cited in full the first time it appears in the body of a news article. Each subsequent time, he is referred to by his last name alone. A woman gets the full name first, then Ms. so and so each subsequent time. A woman's last name is never cited alone.

In fiction (or film) analysis, things are simpler. Just use the form of the name most common in the film. Familiarity is not allowed in journalism, but it is welcome in analysis. A first reference might be full name. After that, simple is best. It should then be Joe and Ratso, not Buck and Rizzo. And certainly not Rico. By the way, I think in the credits they are listed as Joe and Ratso.

Important also to separate the actor from the character. It would be bad form to say "Jon Voigt says 'I ain't a fer real cowboy...." In terms of the film, it is Joe Buck who says that, not Jon Voigt, despite the fact that Voigt does mouth the words. In Citizen Kane, one should refer to Kane, Susan Alexander, Jed Leland, Bernstein, (does he have a first name?) Thatcher, Kane's mother, Rosebud, the nurse, Thompson, the reporter.

Speaking of Kane, there's a lot of lines I use from Kane:

1. A pack of money-mad pirates.
2. A wasted day.
3. My reasons satisfy me.
4. You're gonna need more than one lesson, and you're gonna get more than one
5. It’s an antique
6. To ... buy things.
7. We’re lucky. We live in a palace
8. Thanks for the use of the hall
9. That’s when you’ve gotta fight ‘em
10. Have the warden send me a letter
11. You can’t do this to me
12. Don't worry about me, Gettys.
13. And a happy new year
14. You’re awful funny aren’t ya?
15. Hmm… yes and no.
16. Impossible, Impossible

Midnight Cowboy Riddle

This "thing" is a central part, or at least an ancillary part of 99% of all films.
Films that don't have it organically almost always have it added somehow.
Midnight Cowboy does not have it.
And yet, it does have it, just in modified form.
And it is much more satisfyingly portrayed here than in 99% of the other 99%.
Its unique handling is what makes this a timeless film and a great film, in 1969 or anytime.
It's not a sled.

What is it?

Blanco y Negro, bebe.

What is it about Black and White that turns you youngsters off so much? I've had to hear this dirge for almost 20 years now. "Ugh. Not another black and white film." "Is it in color?"

I love black and white. The atmosphere. The mood. The Manichean universe. And you Coen Bros. fanatics, why do you think they used b/w for "The Man who wasn't there?"

We will see three more b/w films, the rest in color. They are:

The Seventh Seal
Top Hat
The Asphalt Jungle

The last of these is one of my very favorite films ever. If you want to understand the genre known as "Film Noir" this is the film to watch. It has all the elements of the genre. Alas, year in and year out, the students tell me that they hate it. This does not deter me. You will watch it. This year will be different. You will love it. You will demand more b/w. And the Dow will hit 12,000 again by the end of the semester.

Dark Night

Years ago, I used to abuse my students who admired films that I didn't. I took a certain pleasure in flying high above everyone in a hot-air balloon. And hot air is the proper metaphor. I was a bit puffed up with my own sense of what was great and what was not. Anyway, I hope I've been kinder this year to those who hold differing opinions.

And now, I will be as kind as I can to those who recommended "The Dark Knight." I did my best hanging on for one hour and 15 minutes. The swirling camera made me dizzy. The plot was tedious. The characters did not engender any interest. Even the romantic lead was funny looking and a bad actress.

Then, when I had written it off completely, I remembered that it's based on a comic book, so I tried to judge it on that basis, but to no avail. I could not care less. And the thought that Heath Ledger won some award for pretending to be an effeminate psychopath sort of annoyed me.

But, perhaps I missed something. This is the first Batman installment I've watched in two decades (I think I walked out after seeing Danny Devito scarfing down raw whole fish) so any continuity was lost on me. Also, these kinds of films don't do much for me, so I'm the wrong guy to ask. I can't watch Harrison Ford type action movies either. I just fall asleep. I skipped "The Bourne etc." series for that reason, although I'm sure I'll want to watch it in 30 years (if I'm alive) to see all the shots of NYC.

Anyway, feel free to tell me why I'm mistaken in a comment below. And, allow me to state for the record that anyone who liked this film has not lost a scintillia of my respect. I still love you all. Mwah!

A Gift.

What can compare with the sheer bliss of diving back into bed at 6am on a miserable snowy moring after hearing the incredible news that the schools are closed?

There I was, blearily shivering, hand trembling over my first double Scotch of the cursed new day, when the blessed herald arrived. Thus did that ambrosial draft launch me, not into the hell-bound fury of a raging snowstorm, but rather, back into the welcoming arms of Morphius.

I re-awakened at 9:30am, a feat of Olympian slumber of which even a teenager would be proud.

[Note for those interested in historical exactitude and/or moral terpitude: The previous posting is a thoroughly reliable and accurate depiction of events at the Bennett household at 6am this morning, with the singular exception of aforementioned ambrosial draft.]

The Blue Lagoon

I recall my very first experience in film analysis and explication. It occurred during the summer of 1969, or thereabouts, which means I was about nine years old. School was out and my brother Leo and I were hanging around the house watching the early morning movie. In those days, there wasn't a lot of programming on TV, so there was always a movie or two playing on most regular channels. Remember, youngsters, this was in the pre-cable era, so all the TV at our disposal was 2, 4, 5, 7, 9, 11, 13, and a few UHF channels, namely 31 and 47 that looked like a blizzard was raging on the screen and were mostly in Espanol.

The most popularly known of these regular movie presentations was "Million Dollar Movie" on Channel nine. It began with a cool introduction that showed some evocative scenes of New York set to the musical score from Gone with the Wind. In the late 70's, they updated the images and the song, much to my regret. You can see the newer version on YouTube, but the older version was really worth watching. The "4:30 Movie" on Channel 7 was also popular. It ran until 6pm, with loads of commericals, so every film was cut to ribbons. Ask one of your parents if they can hum the theme song to that one. Ten bucks says they can. In the background was a swirling abstract image of a guy in a camera crane turning round and round.

Anyway, back to my story. If you can believe how cheap the networks were back then, they showed the same movie every day from Monday to Friday at 10:00am. I forget which channel. On this particular week, the repeating feature was "The Blue Lagoon." It's the story of a two children who get stranded on a deserted island. They grow up and become romantically attached, have a child experience all sorts of inconveniences and are eventually rescued. The film was remade in the 70's with Brook Shield playing the girl. It is not what one would call a masterpiece of cinema. Anyway, my brother and i watched it five times. (I don't proclaim this with pride, mind you.)

Now, (finally) I get to the point. There is a scene where the boy, now aged around 15 or so, notices a scar or birthmark or something on the girl's arm (she's perhaps 13). She responds that she has always had it. He says that he hadn't noticed it before. Scene ends. Now, my brother and I could not figure out what the significance of that scene was. Being scientifically minded, we figured at first that she was developing some form of malignant melanoma, and a grim amputation scene was about to commence. Or, perhaps she had been bitten by a poisonous spider and a plague of insects was about to make their lives interesting. But, nothing of the kind happened. In fact, the birthmark was never mentioned again, either on that first day, or (obviously) on each succeeding re-viewing.

It was not until many years later that I recalled that episode and realized immediately what the scene signified. I won't give it away. You may comment below if you can figure out what it was.