Remembering Watson

 I knew that at some point this blog would move from being just a media journal to a greater record of my life; I just didn't think I would need to make it happen so soon.

Last spring a student named Nellie was given a box of three kittens by a fellow teacher. The kittens had been found only two days old, abandoned on a boat in a cardboard box. No one knew where they came from or who the owner was, so Nellie, who had a way with animals, agreed to try and nurse them back to life. She'd raised several wounded animals--including a possum--before, and so she began the process of caring for them, feeding them, and giving them attention. The kittens had to be fed several times a day, so by arrangement withe the science teachers at the school Nellie brought them each day in a laundry basket filled with towels, stowed them in the science lab, fed them between classes, and then took them home at night.

For those in the know the cats became unofficial mascots of the school, and several times Nellie brought them to my room and just outside of it to play. One kitten in particular, whom Nellie was calling Treyvon in a show of poor political correctness, stood out to me. He was all grey, and quiet, but with wide blue eyes. I liked him, and I started wondering whether our home was in need of a cat. There had been rats in our shed, it's true, but the rats weren't really what was on my mind when I started playing with the kitten. Instead, I was smitten with his personality, with his seeming timidness, with his inquisitiveness, and I thought about how lonely our dog Finn often seemed to be when I came home from a long day at school.

I hatched a plan.

Clementine has never been a big fan of cats, having grown up with a mean calico who never seemed to like her. But I knew that Treyvon was different. I began suggesting that we take him a couple of weeks before school ended, as Nellie was searching for homes for the kittens, but it wasn't until I brought him to Clem's office with a bow around his neck that she started to think about keeping him.

We renamed him Watson, and for the first couple of days we kept him secluded in our guest bedroom--a problem for our guests with allergies, perhaps, but we read that keeping pets apart and letting them get used to each others' smells was the best way to get them to know each other. We would walk in, shut the door behind us, and play with this little grey kitten who soon stopped being quiet and reserved and started being crazy and fun, pouncing after strings and generally doing cute kitten-y things. Nellie had socialized him well, and he was not skittish, but bold and curious.

Soon Finn could wait no longer. He pushed his way into the room one day and began nosing this little grey ball of fur. He chased him under the bed, then on top of the bed, then stole his food and chewed up his toys. We worried he was being too rough, but our fears were ridiculous. The two were fast friends, and as Watson began to develop more and more kitten energy Finn finally found the playmate he'd been waiting for. They would wrestle together, Finn mouthing Watson's head and tummy, Watson pouncing at his feet, his tail, his head. More than once he dive-bombed him and landed on top of Finn's back, as though he were Ahab trying to land the White Whale.

Watson became an indispensable part of our family. He was catlike in all the usual ways--dominating the house, doing what he felt like when he felt like it--but he was also social in a way I haven't often seen in a cat. He didn't run away from people when they came over, he ran to them. He never hid under the bed, though he often went and slept on our pillows. He loved to go outside and play in the yard, and soon he was roaming the neighborhood with the best of them. I think he knew he was the smartest one around--and he clearly was smarter than the dog--and so Clementine and I decided he probably talked like Bane from The Dark Knight Rises. Every time he looked at me after knocking my contact case off the counter, I could hear Tom Hardy's voice in my head: "Do you feel in charge?"

He loved shiny things, and stuffed toys, and bells, and though that may describe every cat ever there is a special connection to watching your cat play and frolic and run through the house. He was fascinated by water, and every night when I turned on the sink to brush my teeth he would come stand on the edge of the sink, batting at the running water with his paws, putting his head under the stream to drink from the water pooling above the drain. He hated getting submerged in water--which I did early on at Clementine's insistence that he smelled bad and needed a bath--but he loved to see moving water. He even sat on the edge of the tub each morning and watched Clementine take a shower.

I admit, I feel like he had a special connection with me. When we got him it was the summertime, so I was home all day, and I became the human he knew best. In some ways I think he thought I was his mother. He would nestle on my stomach or along my arms and put his head in my hand, suckling on the skin between my thumb and forefinger (though admittedly, he also suckled blankets, so perhaps I was not as special as I felt). As he grew he became insistent that I give him attention. When I got out a book he would jump into my lap and then onto the book, obliterating my reading so that he could get more pets in. At night he would push on the book with his head until I moved it, and when we eventually stopped putting him in his own room at night, he decided he liked to sleep on my neck. He loved all of us, of course, but I think Finn, Clem, and I all secretly thought he liked us best. 

I think that's the power of a good pet. I don't know how animal minds work, and maybe there are great explanations for how what we interpret as animal emotion is really just instinct or trained behavior or whatever else, but I do know that animals bring love into a home, and personality, and affection, and the feeling of being needed. I never thought I would be one of those people that treats a pet like a child, and I try to resist those tendencies as much as possible, but at the same time the lack of children in our home is a void we have tried to fill in different ways. We have an incredibly strong marriage, and we love each other as much as any two people can, but our lives were still enriched and blessed and just flat out made better by Watson's inclusion in our family. Maybe that sounds crazy, but it's true.

Last Monday Watson was hit by a car and killed--I think on impact, since he was still lying in the road when Amelia found him. I try not to blame myself for letting him roam the neighborhood--which he loved--or for not making him come inside that morning when I left for work (I saw him sitting in the neighbor's lawn). I tell myself it was an accident, that he's grey and the road was grey and the dawn light was grey. I tell myself that we gave him seven months of a happy life that he never would have had if he hadn't been found on a boat that morning. And all those things are true. And none of those things make me miss him any less. None of those things make me feel any better when I walk Finn and he looks behind the bushes in front of our house for Watson, since that's where he would wait for us in the mornings. None of those things make me wish I hadn't gotten annoyed when Watson had attacked my feet in the mornings, since I know he was just looking to play. None of those things make the house feel any less empty now that he is gone.

Rest in peace, Watson. You are missed.

Film: Jane Eyre

Director: Cary Fukunaga
Genre: Drama
Source: UK/USA (2011)
Rating: PG-13
Location/Format: Blu-Ray
Grade: A-

Jane Eyre is shot with a spareness and simplicity of an indie film with a higher budget, and I don't mean that in a bad way. Fukunaga uses washed out and desaturated colors to evoke the emptiness -even the coldness--of Jane's life that contrasts nicely with the blossoming flowers of her later romance with Rochester. The novel Jane Eyre was one of those classic novels that surprised me in how much I liked it (a feeling I'm currently experiencing again while reading Moby Dick for the first time) and I think the film does an excellent job capturing the feel of the Victorian book in a very modern way. This doesn't look like your typical staid British period piece. Fukunaga uses handheld cameras to create a feeling of intimacy, he cuts sound to show emotion, he uses close-up to create meaning. The visual appeal of this film was really heightened by the blu-ray, and it was a sparse but beautiful film to look at.

It was also helped a lot by a trio of great actors in key roles: Judi Dench as Mrs. Fairfax, Mia Wasikowska as Jane, and the always great Michael Fassbender as Rochester. These three inhabited their roles effortlessly, and while I was worried about Waskiowska at first, she held her own admirably with the two great Brits. Her conversations with Rochester, her wit, her honesty, made their growing love easy to understand. She managed to be both completely charming and completely appropriate as a servant in the same breath. It helps that she is attractive but not distractingly beautiful, as it makes Jane's appeal understandable but not over-stated.

My only problem with the film was how they presented the revelation of "what's really  happening at Thornfield." It seemed very anti-climactic, and though I may be overly influenced by my reading as an English scholar (where "the madwoman in the attic" is such an essential trope there are even key books written about the social, cultural, and moral implications of the hidden wife in 19th century life) that somehow that scene felt flat and not significant enough. 

That said, the film was a pleasure. The story is quintessentially Victorian, but it still has great impact today.

Alternate Film Title: "Your Life Sucks But Everybody Loves You"

Film: The Do-Deca-Pentathalon

Director: Jay and Mark Duplass
Genre: Comedy
Source: USA (2012)
Rating: R
Location/Format: Netflix Streaming
Grade: A

On our way to see The Silver Linings Playbook, Clementine and I were talking about how our different roles in the family shaped our personalities. She is the oldest child of three, with a sister two years and a brother five years younger than she is. She and her sister were and are close--best friends, even. They had different interests, but they loved being together.She asked me what it was like being the youngest of three brothers (and in this particular conversation my sisters didn't come up). I struggled to find the right words.

I love my brothers completely. In fact, as a child, I think I idolized both of them. Both of my brothers were popular and successful in their high school careers, though in different ways. My oldest brother was (and still is) incredibly smart. School valedictorian, National Merit Scholar, eventually going to to Duke University and Princeton. He was a brain, and his confidence and intelligence amazed me. My middle brother was a football star in junior high, moving on to theater, where directors called him one of the most talented actors they'd worked with. Now granted, this was in a moderately sized town with only one high school, but still. The accolades both of them received made them idols for me as an elementary school kid.

As I grew up, I wanted to somehow prove I was just as good, just as smart, just as talented as they were--that I hadn't been left out of the family talent pool. I pushed myself in school, becoming valedictorian (well, one of 14, since my school didn't weight GPAs, but of a class of over 400, it was still an achievement) and a National Merit Scholar as well. I wasn't particularly interested in sports, but I followed my middle brother into the arts: particularly singing and theater, making the school's elite performance choir my senior year and gaining starring roles in theater productions as a junior and senior. I still love the theater today, and I still get the desire to act.

As we walked into the theater, I tried to explain to Clementine that complex brotherly relationship: love, adoration, respect, idolization, tied up inexorably with competition, a desire to win, to prove myself, to be seen, in some weird way, as the best brother. Now, mind you, I don't really think I am the best brother. I look up to my brothers too much to think I'm the best brother. But somehow, perversely, I still want others to acknowledge how smart, how talented, how great I am particularly when compared to my brothers. I have no false assumptions that my brothers feel the same way; this is all my ridiculous psychology--a younger-brother-inferiority complex I never grew out of because I love them so much.

I think that's why The Do-Deca-Pentathalon appealed to me so strongly. Made by two brothers and about the two brothers, the film takes these feelings I can recognize so wholly but not quite explain and then exaggerates them to an absurd-yet-still-real degree. Two brothers engage in a competition--a re-do of a battle they'd had 22 years before--to determine who the "best brother" is. Twenty-five events, from laser tag to arm wrestling to swimming, force them together to confront their damaged relationship.

My relationships aren't damaged, my brothers and I are still friends, but that rivalry, born of love and antagonism, is something the film nails perfectly. It's a typical Duplass brothers' movie--understated in an indie-film-way, human, and absurd--but the tone made the whole movie shine, and it earns its ending without resorting too much to Hollywood sentimentalism. I want to find brothers I know just to recommend it.

Alternate Film Title: "I Thought Your Son Was a Girl For The First Twenty Minutes"

Film: Silver Linings Playbook

Director: David O. Russell
Genre: Comedy
Source: USA (2012)
Rating: R
Location/Format: Glynn Place Stadium Cinemas
Grade: B+

Silver Linings Playbook is exactly what you would expect if you hear "David O. Russell romantic comedy." Looking over his IMDB page it seems that he's done other romantic comedies in his past, but I know him as the director of The Fighter and I Heart Huckabees. This movie pretty successfully combines the awkward/dysfunctional family drama of the former with the silly (and absurd) comedy of the latter, and for the most part its pretty successful at it. That said, though this is a fine little film, I do not understand why it's gotten the Oscar attention it has this year. This is really not a film that will stand the test of time, especially since the third act forgoes the complex relationship/psychological drama of the first two acts in favor of standard romantic comedy shenanigans (yes, there is a big dance at the end, and yes, Jennifer Lawrence actually says the line, "But we have to practice the big move!"). Lawrence, Cooper, DeNiro, and Weaver are all solid, but do they ALL deserve Oscar nominations? I don't think so. Take Bradley Cooper, for example: He's great and scenery chewing and lots of fun, but in what world is this performance more worthy of recognition than Liam Neeson's fantastic turn in The Grey? It's not, in my humble opinion. (Though for some reason a quick look at IMDB lists The Grey as a 2011 movie even though it's got a January 27 2012 release date. I don't get release schedules.) Or how about a real dark horse, like Jack Black in Bernie?

I guess it doesn't matter too much anyway, since the category this year has to be a dogfight between Hugh Jackman's Jean Valjean and Daniel Day Lewis's Abe Lincoln.

Best Director is the same. David O. Russell is solid, and there is some fine work here, but the film is also disjointed in a lot of ways. I don't understand why he gets the nod over Wes Anderson for Moonrise Kingdom (though in my opinion Wes Anderson could be nominated for pretty much every movie since he's one of the most distinctive and focused directors working), Sam Mendes for Skyfall, Tom Hooper for Les Miserables (one of the best directed films I've seen all year), and of course Kathryn Bigelow for Zero Dark Thirty or Ben Affleck for Argo (my pick for best film of the year). 

As I said, I think the movie has a few problems (pacing, for example, and the aforementioned weak third act). The film desires to engage in issues like the effects of psychiatric disorders, but then it pretty much disregards them. And the therapist who seems to be a voice of reason early on later becomes just "a pal," basically ignoring all issues of appropriate doctor/patient boundaries.

Don't get me wrong, the movie is a lot of fun. The chemistry between Lawrence and Cooper is  excellent, and both have some great comic moments (typically tied to the sexual tension between them). Also, Chris Tucker makes a surprise (and enjoyable) return to the screen, though in a character that adds nothing to the advancement of the plot. It's a funny movie, but it's not an eight-Oscar movie. It's a good time, and not much more. 

Alternate Film Title: "Everybody Is In Everybody Else's Business"

Film: Beasts of the Southern Wild

Director: Benh Zeitlin
Genre: Drama
Source: USA (2012)
Rating: PG-13
Location/Format: Blu-ray
Grade: B

I have to admit, I have a very difficult time judging the quality of Beasts of the Southern Wild because of the timing of our viewing of it. Here's a piece of advice: don't watch a film you're wanting to pay close attention to when you're dealing with the death of a beloved family pet.

That said, it's easy to see what's likable about this movie, and that basically boils down to Quvenzhane Wallis, the young actress who leads, narrates, and shapes the film. Wallis is a real find as Hushpuppy, dominating her scenes with a childish ferocity that cows children, her family, and the audience. Hushpuppy is a force of nature, which is a good thing given the odds stacked against her: a beloved but dying (and at times frightening) father, a flooded home, and centuries-old aurochs headed in her direction. Part quest-movie, part typical indie-fare, part children's fantasy, the movie does paint a magical world (though not the type I would want to enter, since living in the Bathtub still looks awful).

It's that magical realism that gives the movie punch and visual panache, but still it's Wallis who is hard to look away from. While I don't think she'll win the Academy Award for Best Actress, I can see why she got the nomination. This is her film, and she does a convincing job making the audience believe she really could emerge out of this semi-tragic lifestyle and make something of herself. The story is, as I said, basically a quest, and I'll bet if I had been able to focus on the film a little more clearly I could even draw some connections to Joseph Campbell and all that jazz. Unfortunately, the loss of our cat Watson meant the film only got about 60% of my attention. Maybe I'll watch it again down the line and try and analyze it a bit more. But either way, it was a good little film, and it's always good to see an indie film trying something different.

Alternate Film Title: "Somebody Really Needs to Call Child Protective Services"

Film: Zero Dark Thirty

Director: Kathryn Bigelow
Genre: Drama
Source: USA (2012)
Rating: R
Location/Format: Glynn Place Stadium Cinema
Grade: A

Zero Dark Thirty is definitely one of the most well-made films of 2012. In some ways it's a hard movie to make the year after Bin Laden's death, because the dramatic tension of the chase is very much sapped when you know exactly how the chase ends. So it's a credit to Bigelow and the film's screenwriters that "tense" is still one of the most fitting adjectives for the film. From the opening scenes of Jessica Chastain watching a detainee be tortured by the CIA (a truly harrowing scene) to the documentary-like raid on Bin Laden's compound at the end, the film does an excellent job presenting the question of how the most wanted man in the world was finally found and drawing the drama out of that. It's a credit to the film, and to Chastain's focused portrayal of Maya, that questions such as whether torture is a moral method of obtaining information or what political policies are most expedient in conducting a war are not really addressed. Those are certainly questions worthy of debate and fit subjects for films themselves, but Bigelow does not want to get bogged down in the morality of war. For Maya, the search for Bin Laden is beyond politics, and torture is just another tool in her arsenal. The audience has time to stop and contemplate those bigger questions, but she really does not.

Just as Lincoln was anchored by Daniel Day Lewis, so too is this film absolutely elevated by Chastain's performance. The film is so tightly executed that Bigelow has no time for much characterization beyond Maya's professionalism, drive, and determination, but Chastain does bring greater weight to a role that could otherwise get lost in the bigger picture. She makes it her own story, not just a political history, and so the fire and speed that propels the film along seems to come from her.

That said, I wish we had had time for some deeper characterization. Why is she so driven when so many others in her position are able to move on to other aspects of the job? Where does she come from? And how the hell do you get recruited to the CIA out of high school?

As with the moral questions above, I know that's not really the story the film is interested in telling, so I can't fault it too much, but the lack of character depth for so many of the figures in the film are what stopped it from being one of my favorite 2012 films. I can't criticize the filmmaking--the opening audio of 9/11 phone calls being played over a black screen was many times more effective than replaying the planes crashing into the World Trade Center, and I feel like there are no wasted shots, most evidently in the astonishing final 20 minutes or so of the film--so I would not be surprised or disappointed if the movie won the Best Picture Oscar in February. But for me Argo and Les Miserables both top it in terms of being films I can't wait to watch again.

Still . . . this is how you make a movie.

Alternate Film Title: "Hey, You Got Your Comedians in My Bin Laden Movie!"

Video Game: XCOM Enemy Unknown

The older I get, the less time I have to play video games, so I find the time I spend on games going primarily toward two types of games. The first type is a game that is story-driven and draws me in. The best example of this from last year is The Walking Dead, a game that sucked me in completely, though the "gameplay" is relatively bare bones: press a button here, turn your mouse there, etc. There's not a lot you can do to "fail," and even when you do mess up, there's no real penalty other than repeating the mission. The narrative and the characterization are what drive you forward. I guess I'm drawn to this type of game because I'm an English guy: I spend all day long thinking about stories, what makes them work or fail, how they affect us, why they matter.

The other type of game I seem to be drawn to are, for lack of a better phrase, games that make me feel like I'm using my brain: I like strategy and sim-type games way more than I used to, as well as games that reward creativity. I don't think that's a sign of maturity or anything--there are plenty of Modern Warfare players who are good because of their strategic thinking, in addition to their hair-trigger reflexes, but that's not the kind of skill or strategy that interests me really. Plus, I'm just not good enough at shooters to hang with the big dogs, so unless there's an engaging story, I find myself shying away from them (even though I still see the attraction).

XCOM is clearly the second type of game--the "narrative" is nothing more than 'Aliens are attacking; don't let them win'--but it's so good at making the player think about resource management, strategy, and tactics, that I didn't really worry at all about the story. XCOM requires thought, planning, and dedication, and though the mode I played in allowed for easy recovery from mistakes by allowing unlimited saves, the game ramps up to an Ironman mode where every choice you make--and loss you suffer--becomes permanent. I'm not there yet, but I can easily see that this is a game I will come back to for at least one more round now that I've beaten it once.

The game has two main phases. The first phase is a base management game in which you decide how to spend money (options include weapons, equipment, base improvements, satellite coverage of the world, and fighter jets), what technologies to research, and how you will help train your soldiers. The game does a nice job of limiting the money, since some of the resources you could sell will also be needed later for building equipment, and since money never flows too freely. You have to make tough choices; often providing a better gun for a strong squad member means not being able to launch a satellite or having to stick with weak armor. At the same time, you can do SOMETHING each month, so you never feel like you're completely stuck either. You also have to manage the "panic" levels of countries around the globe, and fulfilling a mission in one country (and thus lowering their panic level) means ignoring others, to poor effect. You can even have countries stop supporting the XCOM project, which not only decreases your income but can raise concern among the rest of the world as well.

Where the game really shines, however, is the turn-based strategy of the missions. In your base you recruit soldiers and take them on missions, where experience allows them to specialize and level up over time. Each mission is played on a limited number of "boards" (one of my few complaints is that I felt like I saw the same environments a few too many times), and each squad member can perform different actions, from moving to firing on an enemy to healing a comrade to going in overwatch mode or hunkering down. The result is that I felt like I was playing a visually compelling and tactically challenging game of chess with my alien attackers. Do I rush in and try and make more of the location "visible"? If I do and I spot aliens, I might be stuck out in the open, away from cover! Do I hold back and move from cover to cover? What if I get flanked by the Thin Men? Or how will I avoid having my strongest player killed by a psionic attack?

As your squad members gain experience and skills, they also become more valuable to you, but XCOM has no problem in allowing you to lose your men--in fact, it even has a shrine built to them that you can visit in your base. I found that as I named my squaddies (First Marty, Doc, and Biff, then branching into the Batman family) and grew their skills, I became genuinely taken aback when they die. Despite their lack of personal character, they do matter to your success in the game, so you really do care. Missions became infinitely more intense when a massive attack meant having to make my support medic decide who would live--my high level sniper, or my only assault soldier? Those sort of choices make the game addictive and compelling.

XCOM: Enemy Unknown is the first turn-based strategy game I've played in a long time, but it instantly makes me want to play more. My only worry is that I'm aware of all the accolades this game has gotten--Game of the Year or runner-up (behind The Walking Dead) on a number of game sites--means that my next experience won't be as fulfilling. Either way, I'll keep playing, whether that means increasing the difficulty or buying the DLC. I don't want the XCOM project to end yet.

Intro to Film Spring Movies

One of the great pleasures of my job is having the opportunity to teach an Introduction to Film course. I approach it with much the same philosophy I approach my literature classes: I want them to think critically, to open their minds more to what they think is "good," and to have a better toolbox for finding and interpreting meaning. In other words, I want them to see that being a scholar--and a thoughtful human--is about wanting to be more than just "entertained." I don't expect them to all come out loving Shakespeare, or black-and-white movies, or what have you, but I don't want them to think, "There's more to this than I expected. I would try that again."

So when I sit down to decide what films we'll watch as a class, I have a few goals in mind:
1) I want to find films that exemplify the principles I'll be teaching--whether that be narrative, cinematography, or critical analysis.
2) I want to select films that are meaningful and seem to stand the test of time and/or present a unique point of view.
3) I want to choose films I think the students will connect to on some level.
4) I want to teach films I think are good/important/worth watching.

So this year I've come up with the following selections.

Week 1 - Film History A Trip to the Moon, The Great Train Robbery, Sherlock Jr.
The film history lessons I give are always a hard sell for the kids, mostly because they are conditioned to think "old = boring." I try to lay the groundwork by showing a few Edison and Lumiere shorts, talking about the technical limitations of early film, and then jump forward to Melies and Porter in 1902 and 1903. I think it is worth understanding where film comes from and seeing how from early on guys like Melies were pushing the envelope and pioneering special effects and story telling devices. Buster Keaton's Sherlock Jr is one I picked up last fall as a great way to introduce silent movie comedy, and it works because it is actually funny. They still struggle with the pacing (slow, compared to films today), but there are still some amazing slapstick gags in the movie and it opens up some meta-film questions about the purpose of movies that we'll deal with later in the semester.

Week 2 - Form and Narrative (Traditional Structure: The Natural
There are a lot of films I could show here that deal with a pretty straightforward three-act structure. Jaws, and Rocky are two other easy choices. This year I went with The Natural because I've got a student who struggles and is a huge baseball fan, so it seemed like an easy choice he could connect with. Plus, Roy Hobbes, Wonderboy, the shattered lights? Who doesn't like this movie?

Week 3 - Form and Narrative (Nonlinear Films): Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
In the past I've shown Christopher Nolan's The Prestige, an easy crowd pleaser that directly comments on structure, form, and linear confusion in some really wonderful ways. This semester, however, I have at least two in a very small class who have already seen the film, and the movie works much better when students don't know what's coming. (Try telling teenagers to keep a twist secret . . . it rarely works.) I thought Eternal Sunshine would also work well to spark discussion about why a filmmaker might want to disrupt the viewer's expectations. I realize Memento is probably the best example of this, but it is still a high school class, and that level of language is not something I'm confident I could justify. Plus, this movie still has some great performances, interesting cinematography, and unexpected comedy, so I think it will still be a good choice.

Week 4 - Mise-En-Scene (Setting and Decor): Twelve Monkeys
I have to admit, I'm a bit ambivalent about this choice. In my opening survey of the class there was a lot of interest in sci-fi, and the film does feature some great sets, both artificial and "real," so I think it will be solid. But this is another new one that I'm not sure of. Positioned here I thought that, in addition to an exploration of setting and decor, the film would provide a good counterpoint to Eternal Sunshine in that Twelve Monkeys seems non-linear but is actually fairly linear in the life of the protagonist. Plus, there are a few sets--the future world, of course, and the insane asylum--that really will provide some grounds for fertile discussion. I remember loving this as a freshman in college, though it might be the least "significant" film on the list. I'm hoping I'll have a chance to watch the blu-ray extras before I show the film to find some details from Gilliam. I do know that there was a lawsuit about one of the sets (the pictured chair) from an artist the set design was stolen from. So that's interesting.

Week 5 - Mise-En-Scene (Subjects and Composition): Moonrise Kingdom
Originally I had planned on using this week to look at method acting--something with DeNiro or Daniel Day Lewis or someone similar--but I decided that composition was the perfect place to bring in a Wes Anderson film, and Moonrise Kingdom is PG-13, recent, and very entertaining. This is one I hope surprises some of the kids, because Anderson is so specifically stylized that I can see them being put off, but there is so much heart and cuteness in the film that I think even my class of predominantly male students will be won over. I hope so anyway. I have toyed around with including The Royal Tenenbaums in years past, but it has a brief shot of full frontal nudity (granted, it's on a poster, but teenagers don't really make distinctions like that). I think Moonrise will get the idea across in a more youth-friendly fashion. And I really loved it the first time I saw it. I'm excited to see how this one goes.

Week 6 - Cinematography (The Camera and Lighting): Citizen Kane
There's a natural bridge between mise-en-scene and cinematography, and I don't think you can teach this class without Citizen Kane, so its fortunate Orson Welles is so good at both. I know that many of them won't like it; it took me a few viewings before I began to appreciate it. But Welles did so much so well, and innovated in so many interesting ways, that I don't think I could face myself if I didn't include the movie. Another nonlinear film, Welles figured out how angles, and camera movement, and deep focus could create meaning in ways we still use (and mimic) today. I mean, the cameras are placed practically at characters' feet, for crying out loud, and it has different meanings in different scenes, from epic potential, to misguided egotism. There are few films as effective, in my mind, in using the visual space of the screen to create meaning, such as the scene when old Kane signs his newspaper away. When he is in the foreground the windows look normal size, and then he walks back to them and they tower over him, his head barely reaching the bottom of the pane. It's a great visual symbol, and a great use of deep focus. I love talking about this movie, so maybe I've got my own misguided egotism, but I think it fits here well.

Week 7 - Student Presentations
No film this week.

Week 8 - Cinematography (Light and Color): House of Flying Daggers
Last semester I replaced Daggers, which I've used several times in the past, with a movie that I think is much better: Amelie. Both movies allow me to talk about color, saturation, visual symbolism, etc. in striking ways, and both provide some exposure to foreign films--for the first time, for many students, and one of my goals for the class. Shockingly, only about two people in the class liked Amelie. I think it might have just been the class dynamic, but I didn't want them to poison the well with this semester's class, so I thought I'd switch back to Daggers. It's still a beautiful film, and though I don't think it's as rich as Amelie, it also provides some interesting moments. It will work.

Week 9 - Editing I: The Graduate
There are a few great montages in The Graduate that are great to use for editing discussions about how motions, lines, cuts, and music can all work together. I also like spending some time talking about the final shot to illustrate how when a director cuts away (or doesn't) can change meaning. Not only that, but using the chapel scene as a jumping off point for discussions of parody and homage usually works well, since they often recognize it from The Simpsons or Wayne's World or something similar. The film itself is just outrageous enough--even 32 years later--that the kids still get wrapped in the story, and Dustin Hoffman is hilarious. It's always a film that none of the kids expect to enjoy and then find themselves talking about the rest of the semester.

Week 10 - Editing II: Moulin Rouge
I think next year I might find another movie for editing and use Les Miserables as my musical of the semester--maybe even for editing, since there are a number of scenes, like The Graduate, where the impact is strengthened because the director does NOT cut away, but I like Moulin Rouge mostly for contrast with something like The Graduate. I think it's a great film to use as an example of a certain brand of modern editing, in which fast cuts equal action, and the kids often get a lot of mileage out of noting the way current audiences seem to have shorter attention spans. So it's not my favorite to show, but it has been effective in the right contrast.

Week 11 - Sound I: Rear Window
I really like using this film to start our unit on sound in part because Hitchcock is doing so many unexpected things with the sound design. On an obvious level you have the way in which he characterizes the neighbors with only limited sound, since they're supposed to be across the courtyard and thus harder to hear. Then there is the effective way he uses silence (though I understand The Birds is best for that, I haven't watched it in years) during some of the more intense scenes. Finally, the musical motif that works as a counterpoint to Jeff and Lisa's relationship is one of those elements that most of them don't notice at first but instantly understand once they dissect it a little more. On a non-sound level, I enjoy discussing the movie as a metaphor for the viewer's experience of watching a movie and the fun of talking about how the "single room set" impacts the tension in the film. I think I could also sub in Psycho or Vertigo here to equal effect, but Rear Window works for me.

Week 12 - Sound II: Close Encounters of the Third Kind
I've shown this film in the past during various units, but this semester I thought I'd try it during the sound unit for a couple of reasons. First, obviously sound itself plays a key role in the movie, with the well-known musical phrase as a form of communication. Second, Spielberg plays with silence and sound effects throughout the movie in some unexpected ways. I recently found a short video online that dissects the sound in the film as well, so I think I might use that this year. There are also a few fun stories about how the film came together (such as how Spielberg worked with the child actor in the movie) that I think make the movie-making process come alive a bit for the students. The sound unit and the editing unit are the ones I have the hardest time teaching well, so with the exception of Rear Window these four films are often different from semester to semester.

Week 13 - Film Analysis I: Cinema Paradiso
Though this is one of my wife's favorites, I have to admit this movie didn't do much for me the first time around. It's a shot in the dark this year, the first time I'll be showing it, but I had two main reasons for selecting it. First, it's foreign and I think on its way to being viewed as a classic, so I think that provides more good exposure for the students. Second, our final major unit in the class (save one) is all about putting the various pieces together to analyze film meaning, and since this (like Sherlock Jr) is also a meta-commentary on the nature of film as art, it seemed like a good way to kick off the unit. Despite my cool response to the movie, it definitely has plenty of other elements to recommend it, such as a great soundtrack, the incredible montage at the end, and a pretty engaging story. Even just thinking about it makes me like it more, so I'm confident it will be a good addition to the class.

Week 14 - Film Analysis II: There Will Be Blood
As evidenced by the title of this blog, I love this movie. And I love showing it to my film classes. It's unexpectedly engaging for the students, and it makes them unsure about how to react (and I mean that in a good way). From the lack of dialogue for the first 15 minutes, to the black comedy, to the gorgeous cinematography, to the unsettling score, to Daniel Day Lewis's riveting performance, to the bigger themes of religion, capitalism, and family, there is just so much to talk about with this movie that I ought to devote more than a week to it. The students start out really liking Daniel Plainview's take-charge, determined attitude and they want him to emerge victorious over Eli Sunday, but by the end of the film that initial reaction has been set on its head, as bigger questions about Daniel's own morality, choices, and intentions start to overshadow their dislike of Eli. It's such a rich movie, I feel like I want to show this to pretty much every one I know just to see what kind of discussion we could have afterward. One of my favorites of the course.

Week 15 - Film Analysis III: The Shawshank Redemption
I mean, obviously this is a great movie, but I do feel a little cheap showing it in this class. This is a first for me this year, but it was one of the students' most requested from the list I gave them to choose from, so I thought I would include it. This movie does a lot well, and it's an easy crowd pleaser, so I think it will be successful, I just don't think it's as rich as something like There Will Be Blood. I haven't spent too much time yet thinking about what aspects of the film I want to analyze and emphasize, so rewatching it will be on my to-do list in the next fourteen weeks.

Week 16 - Student Presentations
My class size has been fluctuating, so I'm not sure if these presentations will take the full week. If they do not, I will show the documentary The King of Kong, which the kids get really wrapped up in every time. It opens the door for good discussions about "how real is real life" as presented by the media, because though the film does such a great job setting up Billy Mitchell as the antagonist, as in all docs there's more to the story. I won't be heartbroken if there's not time, but if there is I think it's worth showing.

Week 17-18 - Student Selected Genre Study
The last two weeks I allow the students to select a genre of their choice and then we look at a classic film and a modern film of that genre. Last semester chose horror (we watched Psycho and The Woman in Black, because it's hard to find school-appropriate horror films). I'm not sure what the kids will select this year. We'll choose around week 13 so that I can do a little research if they choose something besides horror or comedy.

And that's it. I may show a few films after school as extra credit. Fight Club was a big request that I didn't think necessarily fit anyplace well. I also wanted to show Cool Hand Luke but couldn't find a good spot for it. And Do the Right Thing is still one of the most unexpected and thought-provoking films I've watched of the last few years, but it has way too much swearing to work during the school day. I'm thinking along those lines, however, for a few extra credit films.

All in all, it's not a perfect course, and it's probably a little more contemporary than I'm really happy with, but as I said, I'm aiming for a balance between significant, enjoyable, and accessible. (And of course given the time constraints of a high school class it's hard to show films that are are more than about 150 minutes.) So that's the semester in a nutshell. I'm hoping it will be successful.

Film: Django Unchained

Director: Quentin Tarantino
Genre: Western/ Comedy/ Revenge
Source: USA (2012)
Rating: R
Location/Format: Glynn Place Stadium Cinema
Grade: B-

There are so many things to like about Django Unchained that it's disappointing that its last twenty minutes are a regurgitation of a trick Tarantino pulled--and pulled off better--in Inglorious Basterds. What seemed so surprising and fresh and unexpected then plays as excess, cartoonery, and anachronistic even beyond the levels of the rest of the film. And don't get me started on the usually musically reliable Tarantino's terrible choices in a couple of scenes. Now, I have no doubt that what made me roll my eyes and get annoyed with the film are probably the exact things Tarantino is celebrating--the over-the-topness, the ballet of blood, the absurd cock-sureness that seems to prefer the obliteration of the character of Django in favor of seeing Jamie Foxx be a bad-ass. But as far as the world of the film, it disappointed me. I mean, did we really need to have TWO shootouts in the big plantation house? As with the exploding bodies of the film, it was just needless overkill. Especially when so many other parts of the movie worked so well.

I think I would have been less turned off by the end of the film if I hadn't enjoyed the first two hours and fifteen minutes so much. King Schultz, played by Christopher Waltz, in particular, is so entertaining and enjoyable to watch. He descends on these Southerners like a visitor from the future, perfectly polite, looking down on the ignorance around him (not Django, but the whites who perpetuate slavery) with amusement, always working two steps ahead of everyone else. He is full of heart, and Waltz shines in his portrayal. I would be fine if he got an Academy Award nod for his portrayal of the strangely gentle bounty hunter. Foxx is solid as well (until the end, that is, when Jamie Foxx, rock star, takes over). And the film is filled with great supporting roles (Leonardo DiCaprio, I'm looking at you) and entertaining cameos. Though the comedy of the film is not unexpected, it was still a lot of fun.

Though not beautiful in the sense of westerns like Open Range (one of my favorite westerns, visually), Tarantino is clearly referencing a whole slew of spaghetti westerns in the vistas and sunsets through which his characters move, and as always he uses changes in film stock and coloring to great effect for flashbacks and other visions. The music also reflects this, alternating sly contemporary tracks with typical spaghetti western music, even, according to the opening credits, an original song by Ennio Morricone. Which made the use of Tupac at the end (I guess mixed with a few audio clips from the film?) ridiculous. It was too much, took me too much out of the world of the film and into the world of the filmmaker, and though those are related, I think they're two different things. Tarantino has never been about restraint, but I think a little dose of restraint in a few areas here would have made this go from all right to great--a little more editing, a little more character rather than caricature, a little less ripping off of his own last film. Tarantino just keeps piling on, from inter-titles (and really, do you need to tell us 1858 is "Two Years Before the Start of the Civil War"?) to body count to horse tricks. It's more than necessary, and it weighs down the film.

This all sounds like I didn't enjoy the movie. I did. It's funny, it's big, it's clever. It doesn't have as much to say as it thinks it does--I mean, is there anyone out there who DOESN'T think slavery was an evil and horrific institution deserving of being obliterated--but it has a lot of fun saying it, and at times even approaches thoughtfulness (which is different than being smart). I had a good time watching it. 

I'm just not sure I would watch it again. Tarantino sees movie violence as comedy, and he does it well--it IS funny, and it IS entertaining, and with a few notable exceptions, most of the people who die in the film deserve to die. Schultz makes a point that in his line of work, the people he kills have done horrible things, and so in the film's morality those criminals, like the slavers later on, have brought their deaths on themselves for their horrible acts. But I think the Biblical vengeance the film espouses has little to do with why the violence on screen is actually happening. It's happening because Tarantino sees the inherent entertainment in watching someone literally get blown into the next room by a gunshot. Because he likes the visual of the walls literally being painted by blood. It's the impact, not the meaning behind it, that he cares about, and while that works in some cases, I think it undermines the moral sense the film claims to be developing, and it lessens the impact of the horrible violence perpetrated in the name of slavery. The big shootout is awesome for nineteen-year-olds. It's a little wearying for me at 33, and oversimplifies both the cost and the horror of real violence. We can be horrified watching Candie's pleasure watching two slaves beat each other to death, but then we are expected to cheer an hour later watching bodies that are shot apart with great spouts of blood. Maybe Tarantino is being ironic about the desensitizing effects of exposure to violence, but I don't think so. The latter weakens the impact of the former, to the film's detriment.

The film is solid overall, minus my complaints about the last thirty minutes or so. It is also unfortunately a step backwards from Inglorious Basterds. That was a pretty great movie. This is a good movie with great moments, as well as eye-rolling moments. Tarantino remains Tarantino, and though that means being a walking encyclopedia of movie references and snappy dialogue, it also means having an inner thirteen-year-old with a loud voice. He is maturing, but he's still in process. 

Alternate Film Title: "Is Quentin Tarantino Doing a Terrible Australian Accent in His Cameo?"

Film: Headhunters (Hodejegerne)

Director: Morton Tyldum
Genre: Thriller
Source:Norway (2011)
Rating: R
Location/Format: Netflix Streaming
Grade:B

Having recently read Jo Nesbo's The Snowman, I was intrigued to find a film based on one of his novels on Netflix Streaming. The good news is I think the film is a lot better than the book I read, so I guess his stories translate well into motion. The story is rather Hitchcockian, with an art theft MacGuffin and a chase wherein one of the party's involved doesn't know why the chase is happening. Roger, the protagonist, is vain and successful, but he is also clearly suffering from a bit of a Napoleonic complex, trying to make up for his small stature (he's 5'6", which is depressing in that he is only an inch shorter than me, but I suppose if I everyone around me was tall and Nordic I would notice my height a little more as well)--particularly in regards to his tall and beautiful wife. So he steals great works of art (there is a typically movie-fictional explanation for why this successful businessman moonlights as an art thief, as well as a technological trick that nearly suspends disbelief, but you just have to go with it) in order to provide her with the lifestyle he thinks she deserves and expects. 

The movie shines as it explores the depths to which Roger will go to stay alive, literally dragging him through more shit than one man should be able to take. As he puts the pieces together, his cleverness and intelligence begin to shine through, though in ways darker and more graphic than in any Hitchcock movie. On the other hand, Hitchcock loved pushing buttons and making audiences uncomfortable, so I think he would have enjoyed this one--especially the intense turns leading up to and following a major car crash and the highly entertaining third act.

I don't think I've seen a Norwegian film before--or if I have I can't remember--but Headhunters definitely opens the door for more. I'm glad I took the time to watch this, even if it wasn't on my Instant Watch queue.

Alternate Film Title: "Stop Following Me, Jerk"

Film: This Is 40

Director: Judd Apatow
Genre: Comedy
Source: USA (2012)
Rating: R
Location/Format: Glynn Place Stadium Theater
Grade: C+ (with the acknowledgment that I might have enjoyed it more if I had been in a better mood)

There are a few things I can typically count on in a Judd Apatow movie: it will make me laugh a lot, it will be too long, it will at times be profoundly dirty in a really good-natured way, and it will make me uncomfortable. This Is 40 hit on all those points for me, but somehow I can't say I loved it. I don't know, maybe it hit a little too close to home at times (I've had a few fights with my wife that are just as petty and small and hurtful as some of the fights in this movie), or maybe it was the fact that I never quite liked the two main characters much--which of course seems ironic given my previous statement--but I found myself not really sure how much I really cared about their problems. The problem with making characters true-to-life in all the ways that we can be little and cold to the people we care about most is that then you have a movie filled with people being little and cold. Debbie (Leslie Mann) and Pete (Paul Rudd) are extremely likable at times, but they're also extremely selfish at times, and the movie doesn't ever really allow them to grow out of that, even with the  fairly predictable resolution. I know, I know, that's us, that's life. We're great to our spouses and our children, and then we're complete A-holes to them, often just moments apart, but the lack of real growth still disheartens, mostly because the film seems to think they've grown. But they haven't. They are self-serving--lying to another child's parents and to the school principal (in what is admittedly a hilarious scene, thanks to Melissa McCarthy) to avoid getting in trouble--not facing their financial problems, blaming pretty much everyone else for their troubles, and then assuming that just saying "Sorry" fixes everything. It doesn't.

Maybe I am asking too much, and it makes it sound like I didn't enjoy the movie. I might be, and I did. But I just feel like it squandered some opportunities to say something more about life and adulthood and what it means to be in a relationship. I think Apatow thinks he's got more to say than he actually does.

Still, Paul Rudd. Is there anyone more likable? I mean, the fact that he grew up in Kansas and attended my favorite school helps, but still. That guy just makes me laugh.

Alternate Film Title: "Rich White People Problems"