Hurling My Satire Into the Void

      I sometimes daydream of being a writer for "The Onion" or "The Daily Show." The daydream does not of course include the excruciating pressure of trying to be funny on a daily deadline, but that's what dreams are for. Anyway, for what it's worth, here's an Onion-ish piece I wrote today, very likely the kazillionth such piece in the blogosphere.

"Tortured Metaphor Recruited by Islamic Extremists"
      At a press conference on Wednesday, Amnesty International Secretary General Irene Khan announced her organization had reliable information that a metaphor which had allegedly been tortured by the Bush administration at an undisclosed “location of rendition” has been approached and successfully recruited by agents of al-Qaeda since its release.
      “Thanks to this administration’s failed policy of 'extraordinary rendition,’” said Khan, “a once-loyal Iraqi-American metaphor now seethes with hatred against its former home, its dreams shattered like a vase of Hope dropped on the hardwood floor of Democracy.”
      Khan identified the tortured metaphor as, “We ought to make the pie higher,” a metaphor born in South Carolina during the Republican primary there in February of 2000. According to Amnesty International sources, the metaphor was approached by agents of al-Qaeda immediately after its release, and in its weakened and disillusioned state, was easily won to their cause. The metaphor has since converted to Islam, changing its name to “The Sword of Allah to be Wielded by the Arm of the Holy for the Joyous Beheading of the Great Satan Bush.”
      White House Press Secretary Dana Perino was quick to refute the charges. “The administration has said before and says again, America does not torture metaphors. But we are at war with a ruthless foe. If in order to save American lives it becomes necessary to tie the evildoers upside down to the Board of Justice while the Waters of Truth are poured over them until they feel like they’re drowning in the Agony of... of... in agony, then that’s what we’ll do. And look who’s leveling these charges—I mean ‘Khan,’ come on. Hellooo? Raghead!” Ms. Perino then smiled fetchingly, causing the mostly male press corps to blush and quickly look down at their notes.
      “The Sword of Allah to be Wielded by the Arm of the Holy for the Joyous Beheading of the Great Satan Bush” could not be contacted for comment, as its whereabouts are unknown.

Follow-up note: Immediately after her press conference Ms. Khan was faced with a vote of no-confidence by the Amnesty International Board of Directors, who accused her of metaphor-torture during her presentation to reporters. Ms. Khan has responded by saying that her use of the word “like” meant that her statement was in fact a simile, and therefore not subject to international guidelines on metaphor abuse. Amnesty International has referred the matter to a high school English teacher for review.

"Going But Not Gone"--Away From Her (2007 DVD)

      I had heard good things about the movie "Away From Her," (written and directed by Sarah Polley and based on a story by Alice Munro) but I still approached it with a lot of trepidation. Although there is no history of Alzheimer's in my family, I've always held a particular and perhaps irrational fear of that disease, of how it can steal a loved one from you--or you from yourself--not quickly, but piece by piece, one memory at a time. How would I react to watching my quick-witted and proudly independent wife forget how to make herself a pot of tea? How would I feel the first time she didn't know who I was? Why do I want to watch a movie that will make me dwell on these questions? But I'm glad I did, because "Away From Her" probes Alzheimer's effect on a forty year-old marriage--a loving marriage, but by no means perfect--with graceful restraint and a minimum of fuss, thanks in large part to fine work from its leads, Julie Christie and Gordon Pinsent.
      As the film opens, loving senior couple Grant (Pinsent), a retired college professor, and Fiona (Christie) seem to be living an idyllic life in their country cottage in the snowy woods, reading to each other at night and skiing through the beautiful scenery by day. But Fiona has begun to act erratically--she absent-mindedly sticks a frying pan in the freezer, she suddenly can't remember the word for "wine,"--and when one day she becomes disoriented and lost on one of her routine cross-country ski outings, Fiona herself decides that she should be in an assisted living home. In order to allow incoming residents to become comfortable in their new surroundings, the home has a strict 30-day no visitors policy. When Grant makes his first visit a month later, Fiona has formed a disturbingly close relationship with another resident, the silent Aubrey (Michael Murphy), and seems entirely indifferent to Grant's presence.
      And here the real drama of the movie begins, as Grant struggles both with Fiona's progressing disease and the nagging notion that at least part of her attachment to Aubrey may be deliberate punishment for Grant's transgressions earlier in their marriage. Grant seeks solace and advice from a sympathetic but practical nurse (Kristen Thomas). Nurse Kristy has seen far too much of sickness and loss to offer Grant any hollow platitudes or false hope; their honesty with each other affords Grant little opportunity for self-pity. Eventually Grant's attempts to reconnect with Fiona, or, failing that, to find a way to make her happy, lead him to seek out Aubrey's wife Marian (Olympia Dukakis), an even more unflinching pragmatist than Nurse Kristy. Huddled together in the same emotional foxhole, she and Grant form an uneasy alliance of survivors.
      Christie has been nominated for an Academy Award for her work in "Away From Her," an honor her performance certainly merits. She conveys Fiona's fierce independence while simultaneously making it clear that Fiona has embraced her illness as a tabula rasa, the perfect means of wiping clean the most painful memories from the slate of her marriage. In the scene where Grant first drives Fiona to the home, she tells him, out of the blue, that though her mind is failing, she hasn't yet forgotten the pain of his affairs with young coeds in his teaching days. "I'm going," she reminds him, "but I'm not gone."
      The idea that she might now want to "be gone" is an uncomfortable one both for Grant and the viewer. The current wisdom of Western medicine says that we must fight diseases like Alzheimer's, bombard them with medicines or poisons or radiation, and that we must keep up this fight to the bitter end, no matter how hopeless the outcome or how high the physical or emotional cost. Grant's decision on how best to help Fiona (which I won't reveal here), poignant in its selflessness, proves that such a philosophy is not always the best way to go.
      Incidentally, "Away From Her" contains one of the most perfectly-timed and devastatingly darkly-comic moments I've ever seen in a movie. I won't give it away, but it involves Grant and one of the home's residents, a former football play-by-play announcer who narrates everything he sees like he's still calling a game. As the moment unfolds you want to cry, and then have to laugh hysterically, and then you want to cry again. Beautiful.

Next up on the Oscar trail..."Atonement"

A Cut Above: Mackie Makes a Difference

      I'd like to take a moment to brag on my niece and her burgeoning social consciousness. McKenna decided to contribute to Locks of Love, a non-profit program that uses donated hair to make wigs for disadvantaged children who have lost their hair due to any medical condition. McKenna has always had beautiful, curly, honey-colored locks, so I know her sacrifice was very real and meaningful to her. And it's going to take Uncle Pete a while to adjust to Mackie's new, big-girl 'do. Check out the before and after looks below.
      Way to go McKenna--Aunt Donna and I are very impressed. McKenna's mom is next!

Oscar Nominations Hold Few Surprises, Except...

...for my own surprise at how few of the nominees I've seen this year. Usually I've seen about 75% of the Best Picture nominees by the time they're announced, but this year I've only watched "No Country for Old Men." (See the entire list of nominations at Oscars.org)
      Because I love to spout off indignantly about the Oscars and because I feel that there should be at least some semblance of an informed opinion underlying my rants, I plan to see the other major nominees before the award show (if there is one!) and then write a few of my thoughts about them here.
      "No Country for Old Men" is a good film, and like much of the Coen brothers' work, if you like this sort of thing then this is exactly the sort of thing that you'll like. As in previous Coen films, the locations do a lot of the heavy thematic lifting (like the Pine Barrens of "Miller's Crossing" or the empty white waste of "Fargo"); in this case the desolate, storm-edged emptiness of West Texas echoes the growing mood of isolation and alienation felt by Tommy Lee Jones's aging sheriff. And once again, an amoral anti-hero drives the action by getting in over his head ("Miller's Crossing" and "Fargo" again, as well as "Blood Simple" and "The Man Who Wasn't There"); in this case Josh Brolin decides to keep the money he finds at a drug deal gone sour, invoking a relentless golem of retribution, played by Javier Bardem.
      If it sounds like I'm accusing the Coens of going too often to the same well, I'm not. Well, not really. If you're good at something, why not keep doing it? Even if you believe their films lack substance (which I don't), the Coens are unquestionably skilled technicians, and it's always a pleasure to watch them strut their stuff. After all, if I watch the Harlem Globetrotters, I know there's not really a basketball game at stake, but it's hard not to enjoy the obvious pleasure they take in showing off their outrageous basketball skills. If that makes the Coen brothers the Harlem Globetrotters of cinema...well, there are worse things to be. Like the Washington Generals of cinema.
      To those who would complain that "No Country" offers no moral, that, as Homer once said (the cartoon character, not the poet), "it's just a bunch of stuff that happened," I would point to Tommy Lee Jones. Like a laconic, southern-accented Greek chorus, he pops up repeatedly to tie the film together, and his final speech offers a moving portrait of a man for whom the world, grown alien in its violence and nihilism, no longer holds a recognizable place.
      Which brings us back to the Oscars. Of the three main performances in "No Country for Old Men," I would rank Tommy Lee Jones's as best, then Brolin's and, finally, Bardem's. Which makes Bardem's nomination a bit of a puzzler to me. It's not that he wasn't good as Chigurh, but the now-familiar character of the quasi-philosophical psycopathic killer doesn't offer much room for an actor to stretch in. But he was pretty damn scary; maybe that's enough.
      Check back soon for Oscar updates.

Back to the Future--Blade Runner on the Big Screen

      Along with my friends Ken and Cindy (thanks, guys), I had the chance last night of being one of the first few hundred people in NC to see Ridley Scott's "final" version of "Blade Runner" on the big screen. From a purely technical standpoint, the Carolina Theatre in Durham was perhaps not the best venue for such a screening (the sound system, especially, seemed limited compared to more modern cinemas), and I was surprised at how much wear the print already showed at a couple of points. Nevertheless, it was gratifying to discover that I can still safely consider a personal favorite to be one of the best science fiction movies of all time. Twenty-five years after its incep date, Blade Runner shows no signs of losing its power and relevance, a rare feat in the world of SF.

      Although far removed in plot from its source, Philip K. Dick's "Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep," Blade Runner investigates the same central question as the novel--what is it that makes us human? "More human than human" is the Tyrell corporation's creepy motto for its artificial people who are stronger, faster, and at least as intelligent as their creators. Roy Batty's final act of mercy turns the motto on its ear; despite the "questionable things" he has done in the past, when Roy decides to spare the life of his lover's murderer, he proves himself more human than Deckard, the "little man" who is by no means proud of himself.
      Most of the differences I noticed between the "final cut" and my memory of the previous director's cut seem pretty minor, with a curious exception. When Roy finally "meets his maker," Tyrell, he says, "I want more life, Father." My memory of that line from previous versions was, "I want more life, fucker." That's a lot different. Sure enough, when I replayed the line (three times) on my DVD of the director's cut, Roy clearly says "fucker"; his lips, however, seem to be forming the word "Father." For whatever reason, the line seems to have been filmed as "father," then dubbed as "fucker" until this final cut. The final version works much better, and not just because of any prudishness on my part. Calling Tyrell a "fucker" merely adds a note of menace to Hauer's already highly menacing performance; calling him "Father" reinforces Roy's fulfillment of the Frankenstein archetype--the monster returned to punish his creator for cursing him to an incomplete humanity.
      I see Ken has also posted to his blog about the final cut--check out his thoughts here. I discovered last night that Ken and I are in near complete agreement about Blade Runner, but his post raised one very minor point on which I disagree. His description of the death of Pris indicates that he envisions the replicants as some kind of very sophisticated robots that merely appear human. I always imagined them as entirely indistinguishable from people, wholly flesh and blood. What do you think, Ken? Does that make any kind of difference at all?

Greta's Little Brother Debuts in Society

      I would like to take this opportunity to introduce everyone to Greta's new little brother. Everyone, meet Porter. Porter, everyone.
      Porter is a rescue from the Chatham County Animal Shelter via the fine folks at C.A.R.E., or Chatham Animal Rescue and Education. His foster name was Pale Ale, but that's too hard to say, so in keeping with the beer-themed name, we changed it to Porter. He's about a year old, and very affectionate and outgoing. You can just pick him up, flip him over, throw him in your lap, and the purr motor fires up. Those of you who knew the dear, departed Chino and Zenda will appreciate what an adjustment this is for us.
      We're slowly introducing him to Greta, and so far, so good. Greta knows all about these strange little puppies that never grow up, don't speak dog, and can whack you with really sharp claws even before you see it coming. She respects his space. I will make a sincere effort to avoid letting this become one of those "my children are soooo cute" kind of blogs.
      But, wow. They really are. Cute.

The Seven Song Meme Strikes Again

      I'm not sure being "tagged" qualifies as some sort of existential proof of being, but if so, I have been tagged, therefore I am. Cindy Morefield has tagged me with the "seven song meme," the rules of which are simple:

List seven songs you are into right now. No matter what the genre, whether or not they have words, or even if they’re not any good, but they must be songs you’re really enjoying now. Post these instructions in your blog along with your seven songs. Then tag seven other people to see what they’re listening to. If you want.

      I don't really know seven other people with blogs who haven't yet been tagged. Fortunately there was no mention made of how the last person who failed to pass on the meme was killed by a falling piano, so I'm assuming this is safer than a chain letter. Anyway, here's my list.

• "The Side With the Seeds" by Wilco, from Sky Blue Sky. I never understood the critical acclaim that Wilco has always enjoyed until my brother recommended "Sky Blue Sky." There's not a single track I don't like, but "The Side With the Seeds" has been getting the heaviest rotation in my CD spinner lately. You have to love a song that has not one, but two excellent guitar solos.
• "Rag and Bone" by The White Stripes from Icky Thump. I've always had a soft spot for stripped down outfits like Morphine, early Rush, and The White Stripes. Every so often, just when music seems to be stuck in a death-spiral of mediocrity, someone comes along to renew my faith in rock and roll. Right now it's Jack and Meg.
• "Red Right Hand" by Nick Cave from Best of Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds. There's nothing new about this one, but I've been going back to it again and again lately. I have a half-baked notion that the old Japanese "Zatoichi" movies about the lonely, blind, roaming, reluctant sword master would make an excellent American Western if Ichi were turned into a lonely, blind, roaming, reluctant gunfighter. "Red Right Hand" is the song I imagine would run over the opening credits, just after the first shootout. "You're one microscopic cog in his catastrophic plan, designed and directed by his red right hand."
• "Just Before You Leave" by Del Amitri from Can You Do Me Good? Perhaps no other pop band has produced more songs about love gone bad than Del Amitri. Love gone really, really bad. But they're great songs. For the best representation of their stuff, check out the album Waking Hours.
• "Ships" by Big Country from No Place Like Home. Big Country was huge in the UK, but never really broke over here except for their one eponymous hit. They wrote a lot of good stuff about tough times in Thatcher's Britain; maybe that's why they didn't resonate with Americans. Think Springsteen with guitars that sound like bagpipes. Or something.
• "Blue" by the Jayhawks from Tomorrow the Green Grass. Arthur Clarke wrote a short story called--I think--"The Ultimate Melody" about a scientist who sought to precisely quantify what sonic characteristics make up those songs that stick in your head and go round and round all day. The scientist was so successful at creating his "ultimate melody" that he turned himself into a drooling idiot, unable to hold any thought in his head other than the perfect melody, going endlessly round and round. "Blue" would probably have served as an excellent starting point for his research.
• "Heartless" by John Doe from Forever Hasn't Happened Yet. John Doe is a former member of the famous punk band "X" but has since transformed himself into a genre-busting singer/songwriter whose music sometimes falls into alt-country or roots rock and sometimes defies classification altogether. Anyway, he's really good, and another track on the same album, "Twin Brother" dukes it out with Kelly Joe Phelps's "Tommy" for the title of Most Depressing Song Ever Written.