Watching Austin City Limits

And I truly believe that Kathleen Edwards could kick my ass when she snarls, “You only call me honey when we’re alone.”  She is a great songwriter, especially in that take-no-crap-from-anyone Eddie Vedder sort of way.  I’m glad to know that she’s just as great live – or recorded live anyway – as she is on her albums.

Although, watching it reminds me of when I was a kid and my father would watch Austin City Limits every now and again and I would complain bitterly.

Because I don’t have time for a real post…

And because the Beastie Boys are always a good omen:

I can’t stand it
I know you planned it
Ima set it straight, this Watergate
I can’t stand rocking
When I’m in here
Because your crystal ball
Ain’t so crystal clear
So while you sit back and wonder why
I got this fucking thorn in my side
Oh my God
It’s a mirage
I’m telling y’all
It’s sabotage

-From “Sabotage”

The Darjeeling Limited and Hotel Chevalier

If you aren’t familiar with Wes Anderson, he has directed four feature films – Bottle Rocket, Rushmore, The Royal Tenenbaums, and The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou – that focus on quirky characters, in unusual situations, generally working through family dysfunction while engaging in often comedic, yet stilted, dialogue. In varying degrees (Tenenbaums and Bottle Rocket more than Rushmore and Zissou), I’ve enjoyed each of his movies. In particular, I’ve always found them to be visually appealing; the backgrounds of his scenes are often filled with interesting, sometimes strange, set pieces that seemingly don’t fit but ultimately reveal something about the characters’ personalities.

Last night, I watched his latest movie, The Darjeeling Limited. It’s the story of three brothers, estranged since their father’s death approximately a year before the beginning of the movie, who together take a train journey across India on what the eldest brother, Francis (portrayed by Owen Wilson), deems a spiritual quest. It turns out that Francis’ true intent, which he keeps hidden from his two younger siblings, Jack (Jason Schwartzman) and Peter (Adrien Brody), until it’s basically too late for them to reject the idea, is a reunion with their mother (Anjelica Huston) who is holed up in a convent in the Himalayas. If you haven’t watched any of Anderson’s movies, are you starting to understand what I mean about quirky characters in unusual situations? Regardless, I recommend the film.

But the reason I’m writing this post is that I’m wondering if anyone else has seen the movie, particularly the short film titled Hotel Chevalier that precedes Darjeeling on the DVD and is subtitled Part 1 of the feature. Chevalier stars Schwartzman as Jack and Natalie Portman as Jack’s girlfriend who seemingly toys with Jack’s emotions. It’s a fascinating, albeit brief, exploration of controlling individuals and the tortuous essence of some human relationships. I thoroughly enjoyed it.

However, in one scene, Anderson’s lens pans across the hotel suite in which Chevalier is set. In keeping with Anderson’s visual style, the shot features a quirky “background” set piece. But, this time, the set piece is a completely nude Natalie Portman. In the scene, she is uncomfortably lying/bent over a chair, in an almost entirely non-sexual way (she is Natalie Portman, she can’t be completely non-sexual). Initially, I found Anderson’s use of Portman, precisely because she is essentially reduced to a set piece, unsettling and exploitative.

Anyway, since I watched it, I’ve been considering my initial reaction. On one hand, given that it fits with both Anderson’s style and the short film’s theme, I think his use of her body as a prop is appropriate and maybe my reaction was expected as a sort of turning of the tables of control. On the other, though, I still don’t like his degradation of Portman’s body (Because actors work willingly, I generally find that attitude quaint – which sort of explains why I can’t fully work this out in my own mind). Regardless, it certainly made me think, and I consider that to be a good thing.

Technosexual

Today, I happened across an interview on Gizmodo of a man who loves (in every sense of the word) a robot. Seriously. My initial reaction was to feel sorry for him because he doesn’t have a human partner. Even though it’s limited because it was conducted via IM, after reading the interview, I don’t think he would want anyone’s pity. I think he is on the frontier of something that humans are going to have to face sometime this century. Other than that, I’m not sure what to say. The entire interview/post is here: One Man’s Tale of Robot Love.

Totally More ’80s

This is sort of a strange post for me because, with a few exceptions, I don’t really consider myself a fan of ’80s music. In our house, ’80s music generally falls into Jennifer’s bailiwick. Anyway, inspired by the post I wrote yesterday, I’ve compiled a list of my ten favorite pop songs of the 1980s. Keep in mind that these are my favorite because of memories associated with them, and I wouldn’t even consider a serious conversation about the objectively best songs of the ’80s.

“Turning Japanese” by the Vapors (1980)

“Every Breath You Take” by the Police (1983)

“99 Luftballons” by Nena (1984)

“Rock Me Amadeus” by Falco (1985)

“Walk Like an Egyptian” (1986)

“I Think We’re Alone Now” by Tiffany (1987)

“Lean on Me” by Club Nouveau (1987)

“Desire” by U2 (1988)

“Never Tear us Apart” by INXS (1988)

“Wild-Wild West” by Escape Club (1989)

Speaking of ’80s songs, did all you American Idol fans see David Cook perform Chris Cornell’s arrangement of “Billie Jean” last night? Because Jennifer likes it, I’m sort of an AI fan by proxy. Most of the performances, I can take or leave. But Cook’s performance is probably the coolest moment I’ve ever seen on a reality show – not the best, that goes to Jordis Unga singing “The Man Who Sold the World” on Rock Star: INXS.

Kickin it Old School

So we have satellite radio at work. There happens to be a speaker right outside my office door and, when I’m not listening to my iPod, I can hear the music fairly well. For the past few months, it was tuned to something called the Starbucks Channel. It seemed to feature mostly newish artists playing mellow music (think Norah Jones). But recently someone has tuned it to an ’80s channel.

I have mixed feelings about this. I’ve been able to revisit songs that I enjoyed the first time around. For example, over the past couple of days, I’ve heard “Wishing Well” by Terrence Trent D’Arby, “Never Tear Us Apart” by INXS, “Red, Red Wine” by UB40, and “Vogue” by Madonna (I like Madonna and won’t apologize for it). But I’ve also been subjected to others, like “Turn Back Time” by Cher, that in my opinion never should have been recorded the first time.

Anyway, today is one of nostalgia. I specifically remember sitting in my room while listening to my boom box and waiting for the radio station, broadcast out of the seemingly cosmopolitan metropolis of Springfield, Missouri, to play a song I liked. When it did, I quickly hit record on the cassette deck so I could listen to it anytime I wanted. Oh, how times have changed – for the better in this instance. The memory makes me smile, though

An Essay I Enjoyed – Life as a Tall Girl

I ran across an essay, by University of Wisconsin-Oshkosh Senior Rebecca Thomas, today and enjoyed it. She has some wise things to say. It’s titled Life as a Tall Girl

4,000 – This is an Alarm Call

4,000 is a tragedy in and of itself.  But that number doesn’t even begin to account for the tens of thousands of Iraqis who have lost their lives.  Democracy accepted at the end of a barrel isn’t.  Let’s destroy the black hole, that devours lives and money rather than light, created by our current, oh so prescient, administration and just bring the troops home.

I want to go on a mountain top with a radio and good batteries
And play a joyous tune and free the human race from suffering
It doesn’t scare me at all

I’m no fucking Buddhist but this is enlightenment
The less room you give me the more space I’ve got
It doesn’t scare me at all

This is an alarm call so wake up, wake up now

–Adapted from “Alarm Call” by Bjork Gudmundsdottir

What difference does it make to the dead, the orphans and the homeless, whether the mad destruction is wrought under the name of totalitarianism or the holy name of liberty or democracy?

–Mahatma Gandhi

The Namesake

Last night, I watched The Namesake.  Based on the novel of the same name by Jhumpa Lahiri, it’s a movie about the experiences of a first generation Bengali immigrant family.  It especially focuses on the identity crisis of their son Gogol.  I liked it but, as with most movies based on books, I think it didn’t quite do the book justice.

If you are inclined to read, and haven’t read The Namesake, I highly recommend it.  Lahiri, an almost unbelievably gifted writer, tells her stories with a delicate, intricate prose that is a joy to read.  When I first read the book, I recall annotating several sentences that I simply wanted to read again later because of their astounding structure.

But as with all great writers, in addition to her technical writing prowess, Lahiri has something to say.  In her case, it’s a description of the immigrant experience.  Even though I am several generations removed from the specific struggles of first generation immigrants, I particularly identified with Gogol who, caught between the culture of his Bengali family and that of modern America, has difficulty carving his own identity.  During the process of maturing and learning to live on our own, I think most of us have experienced feelings similar to Gogol’s.

Anyway, read the book.  If you aren’t a reader, I still recommend the movie.

A Haiku: Go Away

Eight legged bobbin
Spinning trap outside window
Fouling river view

Extended Sabbatical

I’m taking a break from blogging.  I’ll probably be back sometime, but I’m not sure when.  For now, adieu.