As a kid of the seventies, I find the return of the Roman Polanski case fascinating, because it's treated now, as if it was a big deal at the time... and it wasn't.
Polanski's arrest, legal troubles, and subsequent flight generally caused barely a blip in coverage. It was later, when Polanski returned to fairly prolific filmmaking that the question of his "exile" became more of a story... and prompted a return examination of the initial story.
And even then, probably two events really raised the temperature to where we are now: his Oscar for The Pianist and the subsequent documentary Wanted and Desired, which both laid out the events of the rape of a 13 year old girl, and made the point that there was, in fact, no serious effort to return Polanski to LA for any kind of resolution.
In the flurry of attention and energy that's been generated since Polanski's arrest, in Zurich, for extradition to the US, I think there's been a push to pick a side... and less acknowledgment that, in fact, there's an uncomfortable middle that's probably where we belong. Should Roman Polanski come back to LA? Probably, yes. Does that serve as the end of this story? Probably not.
And that's because the person who really needs to speak out and explain himself is... Roman Polanski.
Since I offered a take on Glenn Beck, I feel like I should keep charting his comet-like flight across the news celebrity sky. The clip below - via Ezra Klein - is from an interview Beck did with Katie Couric (sorry about the sound), and Couric, as she does, manages to flummox Beck with the obvious... when he said "Obama hates 'white culture'"... what did he mean by "white culture"?
You can go at this in a number of ways, especially given that Beck, for all his bluster, can't seem to muster the nerve to speak his mind (which, I think, goes back to just how his "mad as hell" number is a bit of a put-on). But I think there's two key points: a) what Beck won't say, which would likely be catnip to the "race" discussion we're currently mostly not having, and b) that Beck succumbs, as many conservatives do, to a kind of cold disdain when questioned by the perceived "MSM" keyholders of the"liberal media."
The first point goes to the meaning of "white culture" which is really very meaningless but is meant to reach disaffected, mostly working class whites as some kind of sop about "Middle America" that's really very condescending: it's meant to denigrate Obama for not just being black, but being part of the educated elite (Ta-Nehisi has done some great work explaining the fear of the black middle class)... but at the same time it's "they're making fun of you for liking Nascar and shopping at Wal-Mart"... whereas Beck just thinks they can be easily exploited for ratings and commercial success. Cynicism abounds.
But the second point is what I find really striking in this clip: it's not that Beck succeeds at - what I'm pretty sure he thinks is meant to come off as "I treat you with the respect I never get from people like you" but can't really hide the thinly veiled contempt. He talks to Couric as if she were a child, as if "this should be obvious" but she won't hand him any sense of her thinking. Sarah Palin did this - somewhat more effectively - as well, though her own chipper demeanor saved her from seeming cold. Michelle Malkin or Ann Coulter, by contrast, never can hide their disdain or their disrespect. And being contemptuous, while displaying a convenient faux politesse, is the current vogue in conservative media when dealing with their supposed enemy; I suppose there's no real alternative... but the prim "I'd give you the what-for, but I'm too classy for that" shtick is getting old... and it helps if you can get that across, better, without sneering at the same time.
I have my issues with Couric, though I think, overall, she's turned out to actually be better than one would have feared as anchor... partly because she's developed into knowing her actual strengths - like her solid ability to interview and follow up - and not her supposed ones that werer never entirely real (like the forced cheeriness and let's all be gals together bonhomie that was never as good as her Today backers would gush). Couric prepares, she's serious, and she's respectful without being mean. That conservatives can't sense the difference, I think, is why the media/PR sell they attempt tends to backfire so badly: until you either treat Couric, and her cohorts, with actuial respect as an equal - or simply let rip with the undiluted vitriol you save for blogs and Fox news appearances - you're lying. As Back is doing here... and oh, the lies...
One of the better lessons from regular blogging is... you don't have to have an opinion on everything. Like say, a feminist who admits her love of wedding blogs... I could have an opinion, but why bother?
Or, consider Roman Polanski. Please. Don't ask me what I think... because I am studiously avoiding taking a position. At least for now. When people I admire and respect can lay out passionate points on both sides... I listen, and for the moment... I'm leaving it at that.
This is all kind of new to me... I like to think of it as some sort of growth, on my part. "Go in, guns blazing" used to be my default approach. Age, and a little experience, has made me realize it's okay to listen, and wait, and take it all in.
It would be easy for Fameto take the path of least resistance and do yet another faux "gritty", lightweight, heavy on the new style of urban dancing "Dance Movie" that's been done, really, to death. Perhaps the happiest
development is that this is not Step Up 3 - or Inner City High School Musical 6 - even if, in the end, this is neither a remake, nor a repeat, of the 1980 original.
Fame(the original) gets a lot of credit - more than I think it needs - for what it was, a musical at a time when the musical form seemed especially dead. The crush of seventies realism, the generally grim economic times, and the faltering of American cinema had all combined to make the idea of singing, dancing, cheerful shows quite passe. In some sense, the musical has never entirely recovered... though it has, I think, begun to adapt to the realities of leaving the old "showtune" ethos behind and embraced the rock - and music video - eras.
The orginal Fame was a key part of that; by focusing on the Performing Arts High School of Manhattan, the performances could grow, organically, from the material... and not lose the sense of being grounded in the reality of urban life. But that grounding, to me anyway, was often unnecessarily intense and negative, meant to give us a sense that performing was really these kids only moment of escape... but denying the essential thrill of getting to do what you love, and love what you do, for its own sake. Not every story needs sad punctuation.
Urban life isn't all harsh realities and downbeat moments and Fame, now, adapts well to the changed notion of modern urban existence. Less grim, less negative, Fame still presents a unique, diverse notion of the passion to perform, grounded in reality, but given, this time, a chance to soar. Watch it fly.
As I wander around the intertubes, looking for something, anything to distract me and change my mood, I find this - and when I find myself nodding in vague agreement with Kathryn Jean Lopez at NRO, and find myself shaking my head at the "Ask Professor Foxy" segment at Feministing... I'm either getting too old... or too conservative. But seriously... is it just me?
Update: In addition to confirming it's not just me (Thanks, Mom!), I also found that Lopez posted the link to Feministing as a follow up to this post, which is more in line with K-Lo's usual embrace of macho nonsense and traditional male/female gendered expectations (she was one of those "9/11 reminded us that manly men are firefighters and policemen" types, which even she now admits pretty much didn't take)... all of which makes rejecting her gendered expectations pretty easy; I'm all for revising the notion of being a man to include the actual expression of emotion and uncertainty. It's called being human, K-Lo, which seems like something to value, not ridicule... even in bisexual boy hustlers with queers cis girlfriends.
Rick Springfield, Don't Talk To Strangers. ...and then General Hospital made him a star, and what had seemed merely amusing became stifling. This vaguely stalker-ish, obsessive midtempo number is tuneful enough... but it's a good indication of the late seventies, early eighties dismal, dark aspect of pop music at that moment. Love hurts when only one's in love... or perhaps, that's because it isn't.
Aerosmith, Don't Wanna Miss A Thing. ... there's just this fine line between "comeback" and "sellout" that's best indicated by recording a power ballad for an overwrought oversold summer film (cf "Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now" by Starship... which I have a soft spot for, but admit is dreck). You can't really walk away from this Aerosmith ballad - which, it should be noted, refers in the film to Liv Tyler - and not shake your head at the unfortunate shamelessness of Steve Tyler's vocal. Then there's the soppy, sweeping strings...and the music video.
Wang Chung, Everybody Have Fun Tonight. Look, this is about more than "everybody wang chung tonight." You could, seriously, get away with that lame lyric (remember, we're talking about the era when Talk Talk released the single "Talk Talk" from their album... Talk Talk), but you can't escape the cheerless, forced frivolity implicit in the title. You shouldn't have to tell everyone to have fun (or like Kool and the Gnag, so relentlessly insist on "celebrate good times, c'mon"), it should, really, be ocurring organically. It's not... and those poor fellas in Wang Chung have been paying for it ever since.
Def Leppard, Love Bites. ...and bleeds, and brings me to my knees... just atrocious. Just to be clear on the guidelines... I don't hate all power ballads. Just this one. And maybe a few others (which is a separate issue from "girls name" ballads like Boston's "Amanda")
Cascada, Evacuate The Dancefloor. I didn't say everything was going to be eighties, did I? This brings up an amusing moment from J in B, who always points out to me that Michael Jackson's Blood on the Dance Floor is a terrible song because it links dancing - a peaceful activity, really - to violence and mayhem. I like the song, myself... but his point makes sense to me when I think about why "Billie Jean" bugs me so much. And, in any case, Cascada's current single, equating love of a dance song with a painful disease, seems an even worse, far more inappropriate metaphor ("stop, this beat is killing me"???). This is why we love Madonna for "Spotlight" and "Into The Groove" and now "Celebration" - if the groove is infectious... it should be in a good way, not a scary one.
If you've been in a Starbucks lately, you know we're committed to the rerelease of the Beat;es catalog on rematered CDs... I like knowing that Yoko Ono will be secure in her retirement... don't you? Having the entire catalog - and I do mean all of it - repeated on a daily basis is tiring, yes, but there are moments to sing along too... which seemed like a good place to start this week.
Barrett Strong, Money (That's What I Want). I was raised on Motown, and it wasn't until well into college that I discovered that The Beatles did too, when I heard their cover of Barrett Strong's hit, written by Berry Gordy and Motown's first hit. I like the Beatles' version too... but as a place to start... go check out the source for a good indication of what Gordy did to help change pop music: propulsive, accessible rhythms married to common, relatable sentiments. The best things in life are free... and you can leave them to the birds and Bees. Give me money. That's what I want.
The Beatles - She Loves You. In general, I am a proponent of early Beatles; give me those first seven singles from 1964 and that pretty much settles it, if you ask me. The sound is lean and spare, the tracks are catchy and danceable, the vocals are tight and the lyrics are universal. Even I - who'd take the Supremes/Beach Boys side of the Brit Invasion argument everytime - have to admit that tey are simply undeniable. With a love like that... you know, you should be glad.
The Beatles - Please Please Me. One of the happier discoveries of all the relaying is how the good, familiar songs still have their strengths: Please Please Me is, for my money, a better album than people (me, anyway) would have realized, and the title track holds up damn well, getting everyone in the store bopping and singing along. At a time when we lack universal moments, and cheerful ones, especially... I wouldn't dismiss the pleasures of a shared joy out of hand.
The Beatles - All You Need Is Love. Of the later Beatles, I prefer the less experimental, less poretentous tracks. Shining especially brightly for me is Lennon's gem, simple, direct, that starts small and builds until the whole world seems to be singing along... and then Lennon jumps in and sings "She Loves You, yeah, yeah, yeah" at the fade - perhaps pop's first real self-referential lyric - and with a love like that...
The Wonders - That Thing You Do. So... on the way out, let's not go with some overwrought example of what The Beatles Hath Wrought; let's instead stop by someone who gets the appeal of 1964: Tom Hanks, whose first major motion picture was a fantasy dream of every boy's ambition to start a band and have a hit single. That Thing You Do is a hoot of a film, which I highly recommend, not least of which is the song score, and especially the catchy title track, which whips along like an outtake from Meet The Beatles.
When nothing - from my finances ("destitute" applies) to basic chores (our lawn is frightening, like the place is abandoned) - seems to go right or get done... I get myself further and further down til everything seems futile.
And then, naturally, I decide I hate my hair and I should cut it all off... also, I am destitute. And cutting off my hair is cheaper than keeping it. Plus feeling fat and bald and awful will be easier when I am fat and bald.
I've been so very up and down lately... and I don't really know why. It's not like things change enomously one day to the next... but one day the world looks all right and I can make it, after all.... and the next day, it's all awful and hellish and I hate everyone and everything.
Last night, fortunately, I ran into an old friend, who has far more to bitch about than I probably ever will... and he reminded me that neither his problems, nor mine, or the end of the world. And when he suggested 27 Dresses, The Women and Auntie Mame as a way to cope with my bridesmaid dilemmas... well, I knew why this guy has always managed to brighten my world (and that's not even mentioning the awesome chance I got, thanks to him, to see Bette Midler at Radio City. In the 8th row).
And you know what he said when he saw me - hairdresser that he is?
"Wow, your hair is amazing. It's really grown out!"
Back when Ezra Klein got hired by the Washington Post, I pretty much decided (after that post) it was time to move on from making Ezra a daily read; indeed, as I come upon my third blogiversary, I'm struck by how much has changed since I started... because Ezra, and the blog he did, was both the inspiration, and the model, for how I approached blogging myself. And now... I barely read Ezra, and my model is... well, me.
Back then, Ezra was a nice kid, fresh out of college - and fresh from Pandagon - who wrote earnestly, if not always brilliantly, on liberal concerns he cared about. Eventually, he settled on healthcare, and gradually, he got better informed, if not more thoughtful, about the issues in American healthcare and the prospects for real change and reforms to our (multiple) system(s).
None of which, really, was quite enough to justify the WaPo hire... nor their inexplicable decision to park Ezra amidst the business section blogs and call him an "economic" blogger.
I don't mean this come off as harshly as it probably does - I visit the blog once, twice a week maybe, these days, and it's still an amiable, if unnecessary, read. Though many lefty bloggers have sort of "contracted out" coverage of the healthcare debate to Ezra (in tandem with Jon Chait, who blogs in similarly establishment lefty form at the New Republic), there's not much more to what Ezra provides than your basic mainstream newspaper - slightly more analyss, perhaps, but none of it necessarily better. And having missed a week or two and finally returning to his blog, I was struck by how little there was on offer.
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