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.