5 - 2011 | unobtrusive lucidity

The Proof of Bad Writing

Just a couple of quick thoughts, delayed by Blogger’s recent outage.

We were watching Bones last night. I think the writers may actually be pulling that show back from the train-wreck that they permitted it to become. After we finished the most recent episode, Hulu sort of automatically plays episodes of similar programs. This time it chose to play Body of Proof, which is essentially a cheap attempt to copy Bones. Apparently, television networks simply copy the success of others if they can’t come up with anything original (read: most of the time). I don’t recommend Body of Proof: it’s written poorly, the characters are stereotyped, and the directing…well, the directing…

I looked up from reading whatever it was I was reading in the middle of the show, because it had digressed into background noise for me. The scene that was taking place when I looked up involved the protagonist talking to a child in a living room. Her partner enters the scene behind her, standing next to the front door of the home, and tells the protagonist that they have to leave. She acknowledges her partner, says goodbye to the child, and then exits the scene…off to the viewer’s left, leaving her partner standing beside the front door behind her. The show promptly cut to the next scene.

What???

That sparked some conversation in our living room. I feel bad for the actors. I feel bad for them because I can’t tell how good they are, and, if I never see them cast in anything else, I’ll never know, and always have a bad impression of them. I’ve worked in a lot of live performances in my life, and, although most of that time has not been on stage, I’ve learned some important things. An actor can be incredibly gifted, but if they’re working under poor direction…and especially if they’re working under poor direction of a poor script…they’re going to look like they don’t know what they’re doing.

There are other examples, though, of actors that have saved projects with just a little extra help. I’ll use The Happening as an example. The Happening is the only screenplay I’ve seen from Shyamalan that wasn’t outstanding…all of his other films have been superb. The Happening was, however, well directed, and gave the actors, especially Zooey Deschanel and Mark Wahlberg, an opportunity to work with the screenplay in a way that breathed some sort of life into it. Deschanel, in particular, literally transformed some of the scenes with facial expressions alone. The film wouldn’t have survived without their excellent performances, and the direction that permitted them to develop those performances.

My issue with Body of Proof is that it has neither. The direction is poor, and the writing is forced, contrived, and even melodramatic at times. The actors, as a result, appear clueless. Here’s to hoping I manage to see these actors in something else sometime…I’d love to see what their abilities truly are.

A Review of “Thor”

I’m a comic book, super-hero geek.

Try to hide your surprise at this revelation.

When I saw the trailer for Thor, my initial reaction was that it looked really sharp. The plot? I figured it could go in either a really good, or a really bad, direction. My weekend was made very happy by the fact that the former was true.

From an acting perspective, the major actors all turned in excellent performances. Chris Hemsworth captured the character of the cocky immortal who needs to learn his lesson well, and I was impressed with his physical mastery of the character and the fact that he brought a good range to the performance. I have no recollection of Hemsworth from Star Trek or his other work, so this was essentially his debut performance for me. I was impressed.

I found myself equally impressed with Natalie Portman’s performance. While she perhaps didn’t bring as much range to her performance as Hemsworth, she breathed life into her scenes with fantastic facial expressions, which are a tell-tale sign of good acting. This was a pleasant surprise for me, because casting Portman opposite any actor playing Thor seemed a remarkably odd choice at first blush. The screenwriters, of course, took some liberties with Portman’s character, Jane Foster, but this should ultimately be expected with film adaptations, and will be a problem only for the most devout of comic book purists. Even then, the chemistry between the two actors will likely salvage any contrarian opinion.

From a plot perspective, the story stays true to Marvel’s immortal character who is modeled after the thunder god of Norse mythology. His reckless love of warfare finds him unfit to inherit his father’s Asgardian throne, and places him in the position to uncover his brother, Loki’s, nefarious plots, while he grows as a person (helped along, of course, by Jane Foster). Character development runs light in Thor, but the viewer doesn’t miss it so much because this is epic, sweeping story telling, of the sort that is all about plot and little about characterization. In short, this film isn’t meant to develop deep characters, it is meant to introduce the audience to an epic hero.

And, in that, it is successful. The lead-in to the upcoming Avengers film is quite blatant, and certainly left me wanting more. Long-term comics fans will like to know that the movie also briefly introduces Hawkeye…just enough to get you interested, of course (and the child in the row in front of me asking his father, “When’s Hawkeye coming back?” made the moment for me, in any case). I found interesting that the end credits close with the proclamation that “Thor will Return in the Avengers,” sort of reminiscent of the old James Bond films.

The epic, sweeping storytelling is, of course, a visual feast. Nothing pleases a comic book fan more than when the super-hero on the screen looks like the super-hero on the page, and, in that regard, Hemsworth could not have been cast, or costumed, better. My only hesitation is that Mjolnir is designed perhaps a bit too much like the image from the page, because it felt like a prop at times, almost breaking the illusion. This especially occurred when others attempted in vain to lift the hammer, and I found myself thinking, “it looks like cardboard.” The only other significant visual discrepancy I found was the semi-Celtic design left in the ground when Asgardians arrive in our realm. The design has no explanation, other than to look interesting. I suppose that, if that was its only purpose, it succeeded.

These minor issues notwithstanding, the combat sequences were well choreographed but not overbearing, and the balance between live action and CG was superb and without distinction as you watch the film. In fact, I would say the action sequences featuring Thor in battle are visually perfect, complete with the spinning hammer and slinging, hammer-propelled flight. In this, you won’t be disappointed.

The finishing touch on this particular super-hero film is that parents will not feel uncomfortable taking their children for any reason. There is, in my mind, absolutely no objectionable content here for parents to concern themselves about, and that is important for a film about a mainstream super-hero such as this. Important, and a delicate balance to strike if the film is to do the character justice.

And it does.

Thor opened this weekend. If you grew up loving Marvel comics, as I did, or if you have just recently become enamored with their films or publications, you’ll want to see this movie. Certainly, it is one of Marvel’s best film adaptations to date.

Photo Attribution: popculturegeek

How Critical Is Our Story

I love when I hear an amazing new perspective on something, a fresh way of seeing things that would never have occurred to me otherwise, or at least not anytime soon.

I listened to a podcast this week with Dana Gioia, in which he discussed the importance of arts education in the U.S. I’m always ultra-sensitive to this subject. It seems that, whenever I hear education or education reform discussed in the U.S., the emphasis is always placed on science, math, and technology. All of these disciplines and areas of expertise are very important, and I don’t claim that they’re not. I’m troubled, though…perpetually troubled…that so little emphasis is given to arts education. Most public schools have obligatory music programs (the marching band, after all, is a staple of half-time shows), and an old Broadway musical is often performed at the end of the year. In general, however, if a school board had to cut a position and the choice fell between a visual arts instructor or a physical science teacher…well, you and I both know who is most likely to be brushing up their vita.

For our empirical data-driven, evidence-based culture, there is hard data to quantify the increased odds of success in various aspects of life that connect with a history of music education. Theatre holds huge opportunities for learning team-work, teaching acceptance and self-esteem. The visual arts or photography hone visual acuity in huge ways. The list could go on. I’m struck by how we complain about the distress of our youth culture…or the distress of the adults in our culture, for that matter…while not investing in the artistic experiences that make us better as people.

Gioia connects this personal development with literature, as well. He talks about the importance of everyone growing up with a basic understanding of story and plot, and how they move. His assertion of this alludes to the fact that our lives are stories, and that the hopelessness and desperation that drive depression and extreme acts of self-harm, for example, are easily attributed to no longer being able to see a plausible and successful direction for one’s own story. Knowing that there are always a myriad of possibilities for every story gives the reader hope that the protagonist will still make it through…likewise in our own stories.

And this is to say nothing about the ability to effectively communicate our thoughts respectfully to each other.

This is more of the interdisciplinary thought process of which I’ve grown so enamored…the Burkian principle that every discipline serves as a lens through which every other discipline can be viewed and understood. I look forward, hopefully not in naivete, to when we weigh the arts (and humanities in general) as heavily in our support as the disciplines that make us financially and vocationally competitive with the rest of the world, because we realize that the humanities make us more mature as human beings, which makes us better able to use the skills that make us competitive vocationally.

Gioia spoke more eloquently of the interdisciplinary understanding of our lives and human condition than I have heard in some time. His call for an emphasis in arts education is something that all of us would do well to heed with whatever circles of influence in which we may find ourselves.

The Power of Words

I hadn’t quite had enough coffee to drink when I glanced at my Twitter feed on Monday morning. Had I been at least through my first cup, I think I would have realized more quickly that everyone was commenting on the events of Sunday evening in which President Obama announced that Osama bin Laden had been killed by American forces.

Eventually, the concept sunk in. I took time to digest it, not commenting or tweeting or updating statuses until I had unpacked the event a bit. I listened to some analysis from the BBC, and read some more from the New York Times. I read about the spontaneous gatherings at Ground Zero and in Washington D.C. of those cheering and singing the national anthem, and since then I’ve seen some of the more grotesque and uncivilized images and magazine covers that had bin Laden’s head rammed through by the Statue of Liberty’s torch as though on a pike (with all of the gore involved), or wishing him eternal damnation in large fonts. America is really, really good at getting caught up in mindless frenzies. Blame it on the overconfident knowledge that we have what is likely the most powerful military in the world. Many Americans don’t seem to care what the rest of the world thinks of them, or to take the rest of the world into much consideration…much to the chagrin of those of us who think more broadly.

My conclusion about the assassination of bin Laden is that celebrating victory in a war isn’t an appropriate thing to do, that we shouldn’t be dancing in the streets because we’ve successfully killed someone in the pursuit of justice. Just because someone loses a war, in no way means that anyone has won a war. Even eschewing pacifism as Bonhoeffer momentarily did in recognizing that great enough evils can exist to warrant warfare…to enter into the theological concept of a “just war”…involves recognizing that this is a grim task, one to be undertaken with solemnity, and even sadness, but never with jubilation.

My other concern from this historic event is the assumption by many that this brings closure to the horrific events of September 11, 2001. Despite a silent omission, or overt claim to the contrary, by government officials, the visceral reaction I sense from much of the media coverage is that this brings the war, or at least a major portion of the war, to a close. I fear this is inaccurate, not only because of tactical considerations that have been reported, but because there’s a larger issue at play, and that issue is a domestic, and historical, one.

Words have power, and the rhetoric of national leaders carry implications that can alter history. The war in which the U.S. and its allies have been engaged for nearly 10 years now, however you may feel about how just it may or may not be, has been tainted with erroneous rhetoric by former president George W. Bush that was simply not thought through as well as it should have been. The erroneous rhetoric that I fear will plague our country for some time to come occurred when Bush declared this to be “the war on terror.” The rest of the world has adopted this rhetoric…it is now solidified. I think that solidification will do much more harm than we could have imagined, because one cannot declare war on an ideology and ever hope to win. Should a country declare war on another country, an organization, or even an individual, then that effort will ultimately either succeed or fail, depending upon whether or not the target of that warfare is removed as threat, as bin Laden has just been. Ideologies do not die as quickly or as easily, if they die at all. They tend to multiply, spreading ideas with the fervor of the misled, far more contagious than nationalism or patriotism, and far more infectious should they be evil, as terrorism obviously is. In declaring this to be a “war on terror,” Bush essentially assured that it is a war that will never be successful, because the enemy will always change its shape and reappear in new forms. Unless we alter this rhetoric, unless we call this war something different and back down until such a new concept can take hold, we will be trapped in perpetual bloodshed that will be without end, only moving between varying degrees of victory and defeat, always without significant closure.

Constant warfare leads not only to the deaths of thousands of human beings, but also to the deaths of cultures, of ways of life, of intelligence, of language, of art. Continued warfare is something that no one wants, and to which we all have a right to call for an end. Rhetorical steps, of the kind that guide nations such as ours from our leaders’ lips, must be taken to ensure that the war in which we’ve been engaged begins to draw to an end with the death of bin Laden.

Otherwise, our children’s children of generations to come will be unable to recall a time in their lives when our country has not been at war.

I’d like to have entitled this post “And So It Ends.” I think I could have more likely entitled it, “And So It Goes.”

Photo Attribution: Rick