Stigmatic twins

Here’s my attempt at the short reviews format. Make what you will of a qualified recommendation, an eviction from the canon, a queue-topping rave, and a warning you would do best to heed.

Philip Glass, Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters (Nonesuch, 1985)

I was listening to a minimalist compilation (which, if memory serves me, Scott would file under Glass while I have it firmly wedged between Mingus and Ministry) before the start of class the other day when a colleague knocks on the door and excitedly asks if I’m listening to John Adams. Steve is our brand new science teacher; he is in the classroom next door and we have thin walls, so I know he’s smart and good at what he does but know little else about him personally. All of a sudden, he’s more animated than I have ever seen him in our brief interactions to date — he’s asking about Shaker Loops like I had scored some wicked live Cheap Trick bootlegs. I chimed in when I could about our shared appreciation of the L.A. Phil but didn’t have the heart to own up that my interests were more along the lines of Mahler than the Green Umbrella or Minimalist Jukebox series. It was funny being at this stage in my life and realizing that I was still being evaluated for potential social inclusion based on my musical taste or lack thereof. Maybe he thought I was a true believer when I printed out the Ross profile of Adams for his mailbox, but the next day he walked in with a bunch of CDs: the complete Earbox, a bunch of early Reich, Einstein on the Beach, etc. There was something kind of contradictory about being confronted with twenty or so such discs, the task of listening to it all over the long weekend felt so, well, maximal, but this Schrader soundtrack was the definite winner of the group.

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen (Norton Critical Edition, 2001)

Ever hear of this one? I resolved to finish this in part because of our Whatsit discussion about famous books not yet read and because it was the right size and weight to travel with on the plane. I was surprised to discover how much I didn’t like it. There were some nice observations regarding the more obtuse characters, but I ultimately had little to no sympathy for the protagonist. Turning down Collins was bold and somewhat dangerous given her family’s circumstances, but the repeated proposals by Darcy were unmotivated even given the limitations of the genre. But then again, I’m the guy crying for Duckie at the end of Pretty in Pink, right? And who else is Darcy than Blaine with a slightly better vocabulary? I found Wickham perhaps the most interesting and “modern” character in terms of his psychology, like Laurence Harvey in Room at the Top. Elizabeth is born well and flirts (literally) with losing her fortune, but Wickham has to depend on the largesse of his benefactors from birth. When he is no longer found worthy of their charity, he actively tries to marry for money. This is not charming but he is; no less a judge than Elizabeth herself vouches for his conversation and carriage. That he tries to extort money by eloping with Lydia is predatory, but what options does he have within the strict social world of this plot? Might he even be tragic in a way, a lazy but talented man doomed to live as comfortable but poor relations with a shallow shrew of a wife while his sister-in-law is celebrated for landing her sullen prize?

And just how hot is Elizabeth Bennet? I’m going to argue against the “evil Hollywood has poisoned you good readers, she is a virtuous but bookish girl notable primarily for her intellect and free spirit” stereotype and offer that she had better been a sexy beast to pull some of the stunts she did. Again, I seem to want a different book, but Austen’s privileging of conversation and the admiration of properly raised siblings as checklists for marriage material didn’t work for me. I gagged when she fell in love with Darcy by admiring the landscape gardening of his estate and hearing the unsolicited praise of his longtime servant. At least he directly goes out of his way to praise her looks at the end of the novel. But I guess I’m not just talking about looks (and the pretty vs. hot post sure wasn’t supposed to be this week); her eldest sister Jane is presented as the more obviously attractive just as Bingley is the clear catch of his group. They are like the Aryan types (one is played by Shelley Hack) questioned by Alvy at the end of Annie Hall as to why their relationship works; they get along because one is shallow and has absolutely nothing to say and the other is exactly the same. But we are sold that Darcy and Elizabeth are different, maybe not so conventionally pretty but perhaps even more special because they read, write, think, and feel. Maybe, maybe not, but I just hope there is something more intriguing about her than her epistolary skills.

Cutter’s Way (adapted from Newton Thornburg’s novel by Jeffrey Alan Fiskin and directed by Ivan Passer, 1981)

I remember reading about this movie in end-of-year “best of” lists in what must have been my Dad’s old Time magazines. I think Heard received the bulk of the credit at the time for his over-the-top performance as the amputee vet, but this may have even been the beginning of people acknowledging the niche that Jeff Bridges has carved out for himself as a star/character actor. It popped up on our guide and I recorded it months ago only to watch it last week when I was too sick to sleep. Wow. It’s so good I had to share it with you guys. What’s so great about it? It’s a druggy ’70s noir, anti-capitalist and overtly post-Vietnam, that may have started out as a whodunit but slides into a hazy character mediation on commitment and identity. Oh yeah, and it’s set in Santa Barbara! For those not in the know, this is not the expected setting for a noir, and yet they pull it off in its time and place to perfection. What else? How about the Jeff Bridges character, Richard Bone, being a troubling antecedent to the Dude? Oh yeah, it’s there. Throw in the fact that no one associated with writing and directing this movie seems to ever have done anything of note again and it stands alone like the surprising, flawed, and largely undiscovered gem that it is. Add it to your queue, pour yourself a drink (or two, they can even be White Russians if you’re so inclined) and enjoy. And how great was it that the majority of actresses didn’t have/feel compelled to have implants back in the day?

Which leads me to …

I Know Who Killed Me (who are we kidding? It’s that Lindsay Lohan movie, 2007)

I just wanted you guys to know that I take my reviewer’s job seriously and try and watch everything so that you don’t have to. Plus, I needed a reason for the title of this post. I don’t recommend that you see this film, but if you choose to you will find yourself muttering those two words to yourself over and over trying to make some sense where none exists.

16 responses to “Stigmatic twins”

  1. trixie says:

    actually, some of us watched I Know Who Killed Me recently and I thought it was great. Stigmatic twins? Brilliant.

  2. I have the same opinion of Pride and Prejudice.

  3. swells says:

    I tried Pride & Predge myself recently to make up for the same deficiency and couldn’t get through it either–I think for the same reasons as you. I still have this “intention” (heavy quotation marks) to read it someday but really, it’s hard to get to when there are so many other more compelling and less precious things out there to read. I know we’ve allhad this convo before so I won’t belabor the point, but still, I just don’t get it.

  4. Tim says:

    Cutter’s Way has been a fave of mine for a while. I think it was on endless repeat when my parents finally caved and got HBO in 1982. Last time I watched it must have been 10 years ago. It’s worth it for the shots of late 70s Santa Barbara alone.

    And yet . . . your reading of Wickham seems to me willfully distorted. “When he is no longer found worthy of their charity, he actively tries to marry for money.” Wickham squanders the money Darcy’s family has been giving him; he is a liar and a scoundrel (oh, I love that word!), and when Darcy understands W. is beyond reform, he reluctantly cuts him off. You get it right by saying W. extorts money out of Darcy by eloping with Lydia (with no intention of marrying unless he gets the money; he’d leave her in the lurch and ruin her life if he didn’t).

    Your suggestion that Wickham is a kind of dark modern tragic hero a la Laurence Harvey in Room at the Top (great movie!) is very interesting and intriguing, but also anachronistic. It serves to show just how much early 19th c. morality would condemn a character like Harvey’s. Sure, that morality is outmoded in many ways for the post-WWII England of Room, but overlaying a late-20th c. ashcan-inflected reading of P&P stretches and fudges aspects of the book to fit your desires. It’s fun and compelling, but distorts the novel.

    Perhaps what frustrates you about P&P is that it is at one and the same time a social critique and a social fantasy. It poses the question, “Wouldn’t it be nice if everything weren’t about money?”, but then rewards its heroine with more money than she ever dreamed of having because she dared to aspire to something more. Austen wants it both ways, and that’s what resonates so much with many readers. Certainly, she fudges and distorts 19th c. “reality” for her purposes, but the novel is her creation.

    Um, that is all.

  5. Jeremy Zitter says:

    Even the Village Voice claimed that you should “kick yourself” for not seeing I Know Who Killed Me. I was among the “some of us” who watched it recently, I’m not ashamed to admit…

  6. Jeremy Zitter says:

    Also, Happy 2nd birthday to The Great Whatsit!

    (It was on January 23rd, 2006, that Bryan’s “On Broadway,” became our first-ever post…)

  7. Wow JZ. How thoughtful of you.

    Aw, shucks you Great Whatsiters are great.

  8. LP says:

    Apparently our first post was actually on Dec. 31, 1969, by one E. Tan:

  9. Tim says:

    Wow, that pre-dates the internet, home computers, *and* E.Tan’s birth! He’s always been ahead of the curve, though. It took over 37 years for anyone to comment on the post, and that shows just how far out there he was back then.

    Happy Birthday, Greatwhatsit!

    P.S. Saying this makes me feel like Jimmy Stewart in It’s a Wonderful Life: “Merry Christmas, Bedford Falls!”

  10. bryan says:

    hell, that predates my birth.

    i think #7 was actually ssw, which is why it sounded so sweet.

  11. bryan says:

    #6 — funny coincidence: i gave that lecture this morning. and i thought of the time (i think the first time I gave it) when you and WW were there, sitting in the back of the auditorium.

  12. and wanna know something weird? this morning a large number of students in the class had never heard “rhinestone cowboy,” so i wound up having to email them all an mp3 after class, along with the lyrics. are we that old? i would have thought “rhinestone cowboy” was a part of the american songbook by now.

  13. Dave says:

    i would have thought “rhinestone cowboy” was a part of the american songbook by now.

    You’re right. But the American Songbook is for old people.

  14. Beth W says:

    Ruben, I found your interpretation of PP to be quite shocking. Tim’s response in #4 was well done. I think you are looking at the book from a much more male perspective than I ever have. I don’t believe Wickham was supposed to be sympathized with. He was an archetype of a deceptive man. There is one in all of Austen’s novels. I think the deceptive male character is supposed to serve as a cautionary tale for women. Elizabeth Bennett is not perfect by design. I heard recently that Austen did not write scenes with only men because she did not know what men did when alone. Perhaps she did not even consider Wickham’s motivations because it was beyond her knowledge. I’m sure she didn’t sympathize with the scoundrel. In the end, the story is really just a romance. Despite all the imperfections and misunderstandings, everything always works out.

  15. Beth W says:

    And another thing. Wickham is hardly tragic when you consider that he seduced a rather young girl, probably 15 years old, effectively ruining her life. If Wickham were transported to current days he’d be an online predator.

  16. Ruben Mancillas says:

    i think tim abolutely nailed my problems with p and p.

    that and the whole pretty in pink thing. i promise I don’t see everything though a john hughes prism but did anyone else think that the ending of the recent knightley adaptation had more than a little echo to the close of sixteen candles?

    i was being purposefully contrary in championing wickham but i’ll stand by it to a degree. he’s not a good guy by any means but he seems to be kickng at the seams of this critique/fantasy in ways that are more interesting, particularly his comeuppance, than the main plot would allow.