The happy town of Roundabout, that makes the world go round.Sporadic Semi-Mad Musings on Life, God, and the occasional Dalek.
Chestertonian_Rambler
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Country: United States
State: Texas
Metro: Dallas


Interests: Umm...everything? Regarding stories, I really like which involve spaceships, swords and/or horses. Regarding life, I suppose there are only three things that particularly matter to me. I love passionately seeking God, and seeking to understand him and his world (it's harder and more wonderful than it seems.) I absolutely adore my wife, my beautiful lifelong partner in a myriad of adventures. Finally, I couldn't live without friends--without them I would probably be a lot more normal, and what fun would that be?


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Member Since: 10/8/2004

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Sunday, July 20, 2008

Batman can BREATHE in SPACE...because he can take it

I try to never judge superhero films too definitively upon first viewing, but considering Batman is equal parts superhero adventure and crime drama, I'm going to go out on a limb:  The Dark Knight is a film that can serve as a textbook for how to Do a Film Right.  (Not to mention one based on an instantly recognizable character seen in three film incarnations, multiple cartoon incarnations, and a vast sea of comic books in a variety of styles.)

That isn't to say that I necessarily enjoyed it more than any of this summer's movies.  The lonesome WALL-E amidst the far-future wasteland of Earth still wins as the summer's most memorable piece of cinematic poetry.  Indiana Jones in front of a mushroom cloud (however contrived the conditions) is still probably my favorite freeze-frame.  Iron-Man is still what it is--a slick, unpretentious blockbuster with the perfect lead and the revolutionary idea of realistically filming a comic-book-style script. 

But Dark Knight is much bigger, much more of a balancing act, and therefore much more impressive when it does everything just about right.  The action is spectacular, both in visual spectacle and in constant creativity, in a way only hinted at in Batman Begins.  The drama is equal to the best of the comics (that I've read), balancing three main heroes, Joker, and a host of small villains while capturing the uncertain, flawed, and morally complicated heroism of The Dark Knight.  Batman gets to be a hero, sure, using his almost unlimited intellect and technology to pull acceptably happy endings out of impossibly compromised situations.  But not all the time, and (unlike Spider-Man and most other superheroes) a great deal of tragedy is the direct result of his courage and decisiveness under fire.  Batman isn't just a normal guy stuck in an exceptionally difficult situation--he is a crusader for justice whose illegal vigilantism (as he learns early in the film) is a sword that cuts both ways.

And so, yes, Dark Knight lives up to his promise.  Yes, Harvey-Dent's story (whose ending any Batman fan knows going in) strikes the perfectly expected balance between heroism and villany, with the Nolan-esque contemplations of the fine line separating the two.  (This is, after all, the director whose breakthrough hit was Memento.)  And yes, Heath Ledger inhabits The Joker so thoroughly that it seems unimaginable for anyone else to take over the role.  But what holds the film together, as it turns out, is an equally sensitive ear for goodness and light.  It may be hard to notice over the noise and violence, but Dark Knight is actually funnier than its predecessor, with a multitude of throwaway jokes that slyly slip in to pad out the constant stream of operatic drama.  And when push comes to shove, it turns out that while the huddled masses may not precisely share Batman's commitment to justice, they are capable of acts of quiet heroism that offer a potential alternative to Joker's gleefully nihilistic perspective of the human race.

So is the film a crime-drama about the ability for circumstances to corrupt the most apparently noble of men?  An investigation into the nature of humanity and their dangerous need for charismatic leaders?  Or just an escapist fantasy of a man so smart, tough, and dedicated that he can almost single-handedly take on the burden of a sinful city pushed towards collapse by a demonic monster?  Really, it's all of this and more--and on first viewing, at least, it is hard to think of a single false move in the 152 minutes between the opening explosion and the final ride into the midnight darkness.



Sidenote:  The Dark Knight is rated PG-13 "for intense sequences of violence and some menace," which has to be the most hillarious sounding rationale for rating since Ice-Age ("rated PG for mild peril."  Mild PERIL.  Really.)  But if any movie has to be rated PG-13 for menace, I suppose this would be the one--Joker's knives themselves should be nominated for study by any filmmaker interested in how to create a feeling of horrific violence without showing a single violent action.  It's quite fascinating, in a way, to watch Nolan and Ledger toy with the audience, reminding the viewer that even in a summer blockbuster it's what they don't see that's always the scarier part.

**EDIT:
Also, keep your eyes open for a certain scene at the end that is specifically orchestrated to thumb its nose at Tim Burton's Batman. Now I like both Tim Burton and Batman separately, but I found the sly dig at the Burton series' shallow morality immensely satisfying nonetheless.


Wednesday, July 02, 2008

I Found It

The following reproduction of a news article is, in my estimation, almost certainly fictitious. However, true or not, it is the funniest courtroom scene I have ever read.  I saw it many years ago, read it, and attempted multiple times (in vain) to find it on the internet.  Now located, I place it on my blog for the betterment of humanity.
a man named Chrysler is accused of stealing more than 40,000 coat hangers from hotels round the world. He admits his guilt, but in his defence he claims that - well, perhaps it would be simpler just to bring you a brief extract from the trial. We join the case at the point where Chrysler has just taken the stand.

Counsel: What is your name?

Chrysler: Chrysler. Arnold Chrysler.

Counsel: Is that your own name?

Chrysler: Whose name do you think it is?

Counsel: I am just asking if it is your name.

Chrysler: And I have just told you it is. Why do you doubt it?

Counsel: It is not unknown for people to give a false name in court.

Chrysler: Which court?

Counsel: This court.

Chrysler: What is the name of this court?

Counsel: This is No 5 Court.

Chrysler: No, that is the number of this court. What is the name of this court?

Counsel: It is quite immaterial what the name of this court is!

Chrysler: Then perhaps it is immaterial if Chrysler is really my name.

Counsel: No, not really, you see because--

Judge: Mr Lovelace?

Counsel: Yes, my lord?

Judge: I think Mr Chrysler is running rings round you already. I would try a new line of ttack if I were you.

Counsel: Thank you, my lord.

Chrysler: And thank you from ME, my lord. It's nice to be appreciated.

Judge: Shut up, witness.

Chrysler: Willingly, my lord. It is a pleasure to be told to shut up by you. For you, I would--

Judge: Shut up, witness. Carry on, Mr Lovelace.

Counsel: Now, Mr Chrysler - for let us assume that that is your name - you are accused of purloining in excess of 40,000 hotel coat hangers.

Chrysler: I am.

Counsel: Can you explain how this came about?

Chrysler: Yes. I had 40,000 coats which I needed to hang up.

Counsel: Is that true?

Chrysler: No.

Counsel: Then why did you say it?

Chrysler: To attempt to throw you off balance.

Counsel: Off balance?

Chrysler: Certainly. As you know, all barristers seek to undermine the confidence of any hostile witness, or defendant. Therefore it must be equally open to the witness, or defendant, to try to shake the confidence of a hostile barrister.

Counsel: On the contrary, you are not here to indulge in cut and thrust with me. You are only here to answer my questions.

Chrysler: Was that a question?

Counsel: No.

Chrysler: Then I can't answer it.

Judge: Come on, Mr Lovelace! I think you are still being given the run-around here. You can do better than that. At least, for the sake of the English bar, I hope you can.

Counsel: Yes, my lord. Now, Mr Chrysler, perhaps you will describe what reason you had to steal 40,000 coat hangers?

Chrysler: Is that a question?

Counsel: Yes.

Chrysler: It doesn't sound like one. It sounds like a proposition which doesn't believe in itself. You know -- Perhaps I will describe the reason I had to steal 40,000 coat hangers; Perhaps I won't. Perhaps I'll sing a little song instead.

Judge: In fairness to Mr Lovelace, Mr Chrysler, I should remind you that barristers have an innate reluctance to frame a question as a question. Where you and I would say, 'Where were you on Tuesday?', they are more likely to say, 'Perhaps you could now inform the court of your precise whereabouts on the day after that Monday?'. It isn't, strictly, a question, and it is not graceful English but you must pretend that it is a question and then answer it, otherwise we will be here for ever. Do you understand?

Chrysler: Yes, my lord.

Judge: Carry on, Mr Lovelace.

Counsel: Mr Chrysler, why did you steal 40,000 hotel coat hangers, knowing as you must have that hotel coat hangers are designed to be useless outside hotel wardrobes?

Chrysler: Because I build and sell wardrobes which are specially designed to take nothing but hotel coat hangers.

Sensation in court. More of this tomorrow, I hope.

There's no place like a hotel

Yesterday I brought you part of an extraordinary High Court case in which Mr Arnold Chrysler stands accused of stealing thousands of hotel clothes hangers. His defence is that he manufactures wardrobes that can only take hotel clothes hangers, and he can only get hotel hangers from hotels. As a service to any of us who have ever taken anything home from a hotel, I bring you a further extract from this trial today.

Counsel: Now, Mr Chrysler, am I right in saying that hotel clothes hangers do not have hooks on top but little studs that will only work on special racks?

Chrysler: That is correct.

Counsel: This design arose because so many hotel hangers were stolen.

Chrysler: That is correct.

Counsel: And they had no option but to change the design to stop them being stolen?

Chrysler: That is not correct.

Counsel: That is not correct?

Chrysler: No. The world of hotels had not one, but two options. They could change the design of the way they were hung, yes, but they could also cheapen the hangers. They could very easily have given guests inexpensive plastic or metal hangers they would never have missed when they were stolen. But that would have lowered the tone of the hotel. Hotels, even hotels in a chain, like to have a touch of class. They like giving guests high-class solid wood hangers. It makes them feel good about themselves. It also makes them worth stealing.

Counsel: And people come to you, do they, asking you to make special wardrobes so that they can use stolen clothes hangers?

Chrysler: It isn't so much the fact that they are stolen that makes them attractive. You have to remember that many top businessmen spend more of their time in hotels than in their own home. They become used to hotel life. They think of hotels as home. Therefore they become used to hotel hangers and think of them as normal, and on the rare occasions when they spend some time at home they can’t stand these fiddly things with hooks which you and I may think of as normal but which the business traveller thinks of as loose-fitting and badly designed. So they come to me and get me to make a hotel-style wardrobe.

Counsel: Are you seriously suggesting that there are people who prefer hotel life to home life?

Chrysler: Certainly. A lot of businessmen would never go home if they had the chance. So when they get home they like to recreate the hotel experience in their own house. Many of my clients have their own mini-bars in their bedrooms. They have TV sets at the end of the bed on a raised shelf, often with an adult sex channel on it. All their bathroom products come in wrappers and are thrown away each day. I have even known people in their own home put out 'Do Not Disturb' notices on the door of their own bedroom.

Counsel: Stolen, presumably, from some hapless hotel.

Chrysler: Never call a hotel hapless. They know what they are doing. No hotel loses money willingly. They may have things taken from them, but the stuff that guests leave behind is just as valuable.

Counsel: Are you serious when you say that clients of yours drink from their own minibars in their own bedrooms in their own homes?

Chrysler: Certainly. And just as in a hotel, they grumble about the price and size of the bottles, and the absence of ice.

Counsel: So why don't they get a proper fridge in their bedroom?

Chrysler : Because then it wouldn't be like a hotel.

Judge: Tell me, Mr Chrysler, do these businessmen of yours also have Gideon Bibles by their bedside at home?

Chrysler: Many of them, sir.

Judge: And where do you get the Gideon Bibles from?

Chrysler: Alas, they, too, have to be taken from hotels.

Judge: Then why are you not also up on a charge of Bible-stealing?

Chrysler: Because the Bibles do not belong to the hotels. They belong to the Gideon Society. And the Gideon Society has decided not to prosecute me, but to forgive me and tell me to go and sin no more.

Judge: And have you sinned no more?

Chrysler: Alas, no.

Source: http://www.ocnus.net/artman2/publish/Light_Side_14/The_Man_who_Stole_40_000_Coat_Hangers.shtml(If I recall correctly, the original article was far longer, but I'm happy to have found this much.)


Saturday, June 28, 2008

Addendum on WALL-E

WALL-E is not the first time Pixar has dealt with issues politically and culturally active in America.

The Incredibles originally was supposed to start with a different scene--Mrs. Incredible at a dinner party, being subtly mocked because she was "only" a stay-at-home Mom and didn't do anything "important."  The scene was later replaced with their more ingenious beginning, but it formed one aspect of the "politics" of the film: families are sometimes more important in their rough-hewn individualities than any overarching Plans to make everyone equally "incredible" by denying individuality.  It was contraversial points like this that gave its cutting catchphrase: "if everyone is incredible, then nobody is," its strangely refreshing heft.

Cars was even more surprising in its positive portrayl of the urban mindset; I don't want to attack the Democrat nominee here, but I think Hollywood (despite their obvious love of the photogenic qualities of small-town life) could be categorized by his famous slip of the tongue: small town folks are just "bitter, clinging to guns and religion."  Cars was, essentially, the counter that needed to be said: many people who live in small towns cling to a lot of things--because they know how life has been successfully lived and really don't care for risky plans to change things.  Which is, as anyone who's stood in a grocery-store checkout would know, more than can be said for most of Hollywood.  Cars simply refused to take a patronizing view of small-town existence; even the tribute to Dale Earnhart came off as genuine and heartfelt.

I sometimes wonder if the exceptionally low ratings critics tended to give to Cars represents such a urban bias against a poetry that wasn't city- (or future-) centric.

And then there's WALL-E, a film with an equally honest, equally heartfelt Green message.  Which also happens to be the Message of the Year in Tinseltown lately, uniting everyone from Al Gore to M. Night Shamylan.  It is also, by far, the most specifically preachy movie Pixar has ever released, filled with an almost religious awe in the face of biodiversity in both dialog and all-important visuals.  I'm not saying that it's an Issue Film in the way that the horrible, terrible, excruciating Evil Film That Must Not Be Named is an Issue Film, but ecological concerns are far more foregrounded than any other political claims in other movies.

I happen to agree with Pixar here--simple environmental responsibility is crucially important, and something that our beloved "free" economic system obviously fails to implement on its own.  But I wonder if this is a sign that even Pixar is somewhat tied down by the tyranny of Tinseltown Political Fashion.


Friday, June 27, 2008

Summer of Popcorn IV (Indy upcoming): WALL-E

All fiction, taken as fiction, works in so far as it manages to touch on our fundamental and internal desires (whether universal, personal, or cultural.)  The wooden boy becomes more than his parts but may return to wood.  A young man, previously living a drab and sheltered existence, sets out to find his way in the world.  A kiss brings the sleeping princess to life.  Such stories, though admittedly made up, seem to consistently mean, or at least ask, something important.  What does it mean to be human?  What does it mean to live in society?  What is it that fills us with a sensation of life?

Speculative Fiction (at least at its most self-reflective), tends to take the basic themes of legend and fairy tale and re-introduce them in a context that allows us to believe their literal plausibility.  What is the difference between a replicant (who thinks he is human) and a real human?  What happens to an intelligent and highly moral boy who slaughters an alien race to save humanity?  Is Ofelia's final triumphant vision of virtue rewarded and grace received really in some way more real and human than the senseless cruelty of the Spanish Civil war?

WALL-E opens with a beautiful view of the cosmos, oddly enough sounding in tune with the hopeful city-centric music of "Put on Your Sunday Clothes."  For a moment, we are in the world of pure legend/fairy-tale/Space Opera--where once the town was the location of life (filled with "sparkling lights") now the cosmos are on display. Yet as the camera moves to Earth, the music shifts sharply towards the ironic.  We plummet out of the heavens through a haze of space-junk and into a trash-dominated wasteland out of touch with the sublimities of the heavens.  Even before the opening song ends, it is but one small voice amidst the great silence of Earth.  The empty cityscape brings with it eerily empty music, its loneliness only emphasized by occasional burst of cheerful music that accompanies WALL-E's brief appearances within the lonely landscape.

[Reader be warned: After this point, there be spoilers]

It is a brilliant opening, and one whose potential the rest of the film tries in vain to fulfill.  On the one hand, there is the story we saw in trailers, the story of cheerful music amongst the stars.  This is the story of WALL-E the robot, the ultimate underdog who finally learns the meaning of the love he has longed for in a grand adventure among the stars.  But on the other, we have the story of Earth and humanity--a story of emptiness and lethargy, of an Earth that stands barren and an obese species that does (and can do) almost nothing except sit on floating chairs and sip their meals from a cup.

In execution, the first story is Pixar's first priority, a not unexpected choice considering that even The Incredibles, Pixar's previous flirtation with sociological pessimism, was ultimately a story of self-realization.  This straightforward story is bolstered by their most courageous directorial decision yet--the limitation of significant dialog only to the supporting human characters.  Instead of words, details of animation tell us the story: EVA's stylishly triggerhappy acts of large-scale destruction; WALL-E's tendency to quiver and then collapse into a box at the first sign of danger; the constant anthromorphisms by which EVA coldly rejects WALL-E's nervous advances; the climactic breathtaking dance around the spaceship Axiom.  Pixar has always featured an unprecedented depth and ingenuity in their animations, so the lack of speech serves only to highlight what has always been their greatest strength. 

Yet the second story is not such an unqualified success.  An overweight, lazy, consumerist collection of nearly-identical blobs of humanity is, it turns out, not nearly so likable a protagonist as a small, anthropomorphic garbage-collecting robot.  And perhaps that is why Pixar avoided the obvious conflict of the colonist's struggle to love and re-colonize Earth, and instead created a HAL-like autopilot which can only be dealt with by the cuter robots (along with the captain.) 

Of course, it may be that realistic portraits of our darker thoughts about humanity are not necessarily a good fit for a bit of kids summer entertainment, and certainly WALL-E's triumphantly happy ending is a refreshing counter to the avalanche of depressing eco-themed movies released lately.  In the end, the robotic antics and elements of satire were enough to leave me more than glad I'd seen the movie--it's probably the best movie this summer so far--but like the latest Indiana Jones, regret over the movie that one couldn't help but imagine somewhat mars the otherwise well-crafted summer film.


Saturday, June 21, 2008

Quotes from Gaudy Night

Lots of thoughts over the summer, but not much time for posting.  In the meantime, some quotes from the inimitable Dorothy Sayers.

"Look here!  I admire you like hell, but I believe you're all wrong.  I'm sure one should do one's own job, however trivial, and not persuade one's self into doing somebody else's, however noble."
(48)

"Yes.  Best intentions no security.  They never are, of course.  You may say you won't interfere with another person's soul, but you do--merely by existing.  The snag about it is the practical difficulty, so to speak, of not existing.  I mean, here we all are, you know, and what are we to do about it?"

"Was this what lived in the tower set on the hill?  Would it turn out to be like Lady Athaliah's tower in frolic wind, the home of frustration and perversion and madness? 'If thine eye be single, the whole body is full of light'--but was it physically possible to have the single eye?  "What are you to do with the people who are cursed with both hearts and brains?"  For them, stereoscopic vision was probably a necessity; as for whom was it not?  (This was a foolish play on words, but it meant something.)  Well, then, what about the business of choosing one way of life?  Must one, after all, seek a compromise, merely to preserve one's sanity?  Then one was doomed for ever to this miserable inner warfare, with confused noise and garments rolled in blood--and, she reflected drearily, with the usual war aftermath of a debased coinage, a lowered efficiency and unstable conditions of government."
(74-5)

"With tobacco and literature one could face out any situation, provided, of course, that the book was not written in an unknown tongue."
(287)

"'You would have to abandon the jig-saw kind of story and write a book about human beings for a change.'
'I'm afraid to try that, Peter.  It might go too near the bone.'
'It might be the wisest thing you could do.'
'Write it out and get rid of it?'
'Yes.'
'I'll think about that.  It would hurt like hell.'
'What would that matter, if it made a good book?'"
(291)

"What does it matter if it hurts like hell, so long as it makes a good book."
(347)

"Now that you have the age of national self-realisation, the age of colonial expansion, the age of the barbarian invasions and the age of the decline and fall, all jammed cheek by jowl in time and space, all armed alike with poison-gas and going through the outward motions of an advanced civilisation, principles have become more dangerous than passions.  It's getting uncommonly easy to kill people in large numbers, and the first thing a principle does--if it is really a principle--is to kill somebody.

...One may either hulloo on the inevitable, and be called a bloodthirsty progressive; or one may try to gain time and be called a blood-thirsty reactionary.  But when blood is their argument, all argument is apt to be--merely bloody."
(317-8)

"I do know that the worst sin--perhaps the only sin--passion can commit, is to be joyless.  It must lie down with laughter or make its bed in hell--there is no middle way."
(436)

"Here then at home, by no more storms distrest,
    Folding laborious hands we sit, wings furled;
    Here in close perfume lies the rose-leaf curled,
Here the sun stands and knows not east nor west,
Here no tide runs; we have come, last and best,
    From the wide zone in dizzing circles hurled
    To that still centre where the spinning world
Sleeps on its axis, to the heart of rest.

Lay on thy whips, O Love, that me upright,
    Poised on the perilous point, in no lax bed
        May sleep, as tension at the verberant core
Of music sleeps; for, if thou spare to smite,
    Staggering, we stoop, stooping, fall dumb and dead,
        And, dying so, sleep our sweet sleep no more."
(346)



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